A Golden Opportunity - Hello, Hello
by Reika-Hell-Flower
Summary: I love my job. No, really. The kids are always so happy when they walk in, you know? It feels great to know you're doing something good here. And those animatronics, uh… They really grow on you, heh. They're almost like children themselves… But they changed. This place changed… ever since… that day.
1. Chapter 1 - Phil Grayson

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

Almost there. He was _almost_ there. Just a couple of minutes and he'd be safe…

He started walking slightly faster, hoping to God he would get home fast. The nervous eighteen-year old boy looked over his shoulder to make sure there was no one following him. His green eyes darted from one corner of the street to the other, before his head faced forward again. He swept his hazelnut-colored hair away from his forehead and kept walking.

" _I'm gonna make it…"_ he thought. _"I'm gonna make it… I'm gonna – crap…"_

"Hi Phil ~"

The boy stopped walking, looking at the group of people that had just blocked his passage with dread. Goddamit, he was so close… Now he was in for it…

Within seconds, he found himself surrounded by a group of the scariest living beings on the planet – _girls._

"Um, hi Lindy…" he said awkwardly to the blonde girl that had called him. He looked at her friends, who giggled and winked at him. "Uh… Jessica a-and… Willow, right?"

"Oh, he remembers my name!" the curly-haired girl named Willow swooned, to which her friend Jessica grinned, elbowing her.

How could he forget? She was constantly introducing herself to him with not-so-subtle insinuations. Not that she was the only one. Jessica usually joined her on "harassing" him. But their friend and leader, Lindy, was easily the worst. It wasn't uncommon for her to show up in the most unlikely places to corner him, giving him almost no chance of escape. Why on earth did they act like that? If he was interested, he would show it, but no matter how much he avoided them and tried to tell them that they were, at best, simply class mates and acquaintances, they just wouldn't give up. The same went to other girls in his class, really. It was as if he was some sort of "chick-magnet", like his friends usually said jokingly. He just couldn't go anywhere in school without having some random girl jump him.

Though, if it was up to him, he would have no such "power". He didn't like it one bit – the way they acted, almost made it look like he was a player, charming them for fun. The truth was, however, much different. He would talk with the girls in his class, obviously, but he always treated them in a friendly and respectful manner, not like he was trying to lead them on. Unfortunately the result was having six different girls asking him for the prom right in the beginning of the year, even though he was pretty sure it should be him asking and that it was way too early to worry about that. In the end, he ended up saying "no" to them all in the most polite way he could, hoping they would take the hint – naturally, they just attributed it to him being shy and showed no indication of having given up. By the time the time of the prom rolled by, he just pretended he was sick and didn't go with anyone.

"So, Phil, got any plans tonight?" Jessica asked, wrapping her arms around his.

He looked at her nervously, trying to pull himself away from her surprisingly strong grasp. "I, uh…" _Think of an excuse, think of an excuse…_ "Uhh… I have to… take, um… my sister! To the, um… movies…?"

" _Wow, great job, Phil, you're the King of all Flawless Excuses…"_ a voice grunted in his head.

Lindy laughed. "Oh, are you trying to get away from us?" she asked in a silky voice. "You're so shy! And cute…" she added, touching his face.

Cursing the fact that he was flushing, he tried once again to move away from them. And failed, sadly. "R-right, um, thanks…? B-but I really have to go…"

"But we just got here!" said Jessica. "Why don't you hang out with us later?"

" _Oh God, oh God, oh God…"_

"Phil, where have you been?"

He looked up, feeling a wave of gratitude as he recognized the voice calling him. His younger sister, a girl with short brown hair and a confident stride in her step walked towards him and the girls that were swarming him.

She looked at the girls with the most disgusted expression she could. "And you? How long are you going to annoy my brother?" she questioned, making them look at her with a slightly shocked expression. No wonder, she was just eleven years old, but was showing no sign of being an easy person to intimidate with such trivialities as age. "He might be too nice to tell you to go away, but I'm not. So read my lips: GO. AWAY. Let's go, Phil."

She seized his hand and pulled him away from his fangirls, who watched him get away from them rather reluctantly. They were, however, unable to say anything to the young girl, obviously shocked at seeing a child display such bravado and confidence.

"You. Are. An idiot," she said, once they were distanced from them.

Phil agreed. "I know, but what was I supposed to say…?"

"'Will you kindly stop harassing me with your overexcited hormones? I have actual life goals that do not involve being mixed up with future providers of sexual favors,'" she replied, in an overly gentleman-like voice that did not suit her. "There, can't be any more polite than that."

The boy chuckled. His sister Patricia was an odd one. People that weren't very familiar with her ways often commented on how she didn't act her age and felt freaked out by her comments. As far as he was concerned, she was just more mature than other girls her age – thought she could be a little too sassy sometimes. Her teachers had made such observations in the past…

"I'll have to remember that one next time…" he said. "At least now school is over and I am, um… safe from them…"

Patricia scoffed. "You talk about them as if they are some sort of villains," she retorted. "They're just girls who are really, _really_ into you."

He rolled his eyes. "They're not into me; they're into how _I look_. They know nothing about me. B-but it's okay… I'll be off to serve in the army now, so I won't be seeing them anytime soon…"

His sister stopped dead in her tracks. He almost bumped into her, and looked down at her. He couldn't see her face, but he could guess she was frowning. He should have expected it… Ever since he had decided to try out for the army, Patricia had shown her disagreement with such decision rather openly. Even though he didn't agree with violence and thought that it should only be used as a last resort, he wanted to do something that would help others. Despite his pacific nature, he had a strong build, and always did well in tasks that required muscular strength. As such, he considered the military to be his best option if he wanted to do something that would help the country and its people. Patricia didn't approve, partially because she didn't think he would do well, but also because she didn't want to him to be away from her. She grew up used to have her older brother always around her, and since their parents had jobs that forced them to spend nights away from them, it was him who had comforted her as a young child when she got scared of the dark.

"… Are you sure you want to go?" she finally asked, still not turning to face him.

He put his hands in her shoulders and turned her around. She was pouting slightly, which made him smile. "I'm sure, Trish. Don't worry, I'll write every week!"

"Day," she corrected. "I want a full report on anything that those dunderheads make you do."

He chuckled. "Alright, every day. Can I get a hug?" He opened his arms, still smiling.

She complied to his request, but was still pouting. He would miss her. Even though he was the oldest, he believed her to be far more confident and mentally strong than him. She would be alright. He wasn't too sure he would be though…

* * *

"Come on, maggots, you call that a work-out?! One hundred more pushups, and I'm being gentle here!"

"Please God, someone kill me…"

Phil looked at the exhausted man next to him with a small grin. "Don't say that out loud now… The sergeant would be happy to comply…"

He received only a groan as response from his partner, who had his face firmly pressed against the floor. Phil chuckled and started doing the one hundred push-ups his superior had ordered.

"Fitzgerald, are you waiting for me to pick you up bridal-style and do the push-ups for you?! Move, soldier!" the sergeant thundered, almost spitting the words at him.

The groaning man quickly pushed against the floor to start his push-ups. "Yes, sir!" Once the sergeant was out of sight, the man named Fitzgerald stuck his tongue at him.

Phil snorted as he went to his twentieth push-up. "Behave, Carl."

"Behaving is for nerds," he grunted. "I hate push-ups… I hate them sooooo freaking much…"

"Just pick up the pace, the quicker you do them, the quicker they end," Phil reasoned, pausing to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "Did you get a letter, yet?"

Carl huffed as he tried to do the push-ups faster. "I'm expecting one today. It's my son's birthday." He smiled. "The little tyke's turning four, and she's sending a photo."

"What's his name again?" Phil asked.

"Jeremy, same as my dad," Carl replied. "And he's very keen of throwing tantrums… same as my dad."

Phil laughed again. "Blame it on genetics."

He went on with the exercise, smiling at the thought of him one day having children of his own. He loved kids. There weren't that many things that made him feel as happy and peaceful as seeing kids having fun and laughing. His new found friend, Carl Fitzgerald, was older than him, already married and with a son. He wanted that life. He was still young though, so he wasn't in a hurry.

It had been four years since he first left to apply to the army, and luckily he had been doing better than he thought. As promised, he sent his family a letter every day in the beginning, but as time rolled by, he was only able to write once a week. The letters he received back were, in general, quite pleasant, showing how well Patricia was doing in school, wishing him the best of luck. Recently, however, the letters were shorter and gave him a bad feeling of his family withholding information for him. Whenever he asked about Patricia, the usual response was always "She's doing okay". Something wasn't right.

"Grayson!"

Phil was startled to hear his sergeant call his name. He was doing the exercise right, what could he be egging him on about?

He turned his head on his direction, and felt his heart drop to the floor. The older man had a serious expression, much different from the one he carried whenever he was about to scold a fellow soldier. Something bad happened.

"S-sir?"

He twitched his head as a way to tell him to come along. Phil quickly got up and walked towards him, seeing Carl look at him worriedly from the corner of his eye. Once he caught up with his superior, he put his hands behind his back in a respectful pose.

"Grayson, we just got a call. It's from your parents," the sergeant explained, making Phil feel even worse. "… Your sister is in the hospital."

Phil gulped. "W-what happened to her? Sir?" he added quickly.

"Something about a gang bang. You should talk with them, son. They're still on the line."

The young soldier took a second to wonder how in the hell did Patricia get involved in a gang bang before sprinting towards the phone.

* * *

Phil looked around desperately as he walked down the halls of the hospital. Where were his parents? Where was Patricia? How had any of that happened?

Now he knew why the most recent letters felt rushed and secretive. His parents weren't telling him everything. Not wanting him to get concerned, thinking he should focus on his future in the army, they had been hiding the problems his sister was having in recent years.

Patricia had, somehow, gotten involved with a gang that sold drugs. According to his parents, she had started seeing some guy at school that obviously didn't bring any good news – he was known to be involved with gangs, thefts and all things rotten. She ended up doing drugs as well, and now the gang her boyfriend was part of had gotten into a fight, getting her hurt in the process.

Once he found his parents and the room Patricia was in, he didn't even ask for permission and just walked in. His fifteen-year old sister was lying on her hospital bed, with bandages on her arms and neck. He covered his mouth with his hand and kneeled down next to the bed. How could have things changed so much and turned so bad…?

"… Trish?" he called, weakly.

She looked at him, her eyelids heavy. Once she saw him, she sobbed. "… Phil… sorry…" she muttered, though it was obvious she couldn't talk much.

"Shh, shh, don't talk," he said, sweeping her fringe away from her face comfortingly. "I'm here…"

She sobbed again, tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes. She nodded and sniffed.

He looked down as he kept caressing her hair. He had abandoned her. Things wouldn't have turned out like this if he had stayed. No matter how his parents said otherwise, it was his responsibility as an older brother to keep her safe. He was not going to abandon her again. If she was now addicted to drugs because of that scum of a boyfriend, he was going to help her. It didn't matter if he had to quit the army to stay there and support her, he would do it. He would help her get away from it all.

And he would find out who that boyfriend of hers was and show him _exactly_ what he thought of him. This was no time to be a pacifist.

* * *

" _Dear Phil,_

 _I miss your cooking. The cooks of this place must have gotten their experience at a dumpster. The other people staying here are so annoying. Most don't want to stay here, and keep whining and finding ways to try and get away._

 _But I am not going to quit. I've been clean for a whole day. I know it might not seem much to other people, but I know you'll be happy. To me this is already a win. It's hard, but I'm trying to focus on other things. Thanks for the books you sent me, I needed a distraction, and these mystery novels really get me pumped._

 _I'm sorry for everything. I know you really liked the whole 'army-scene', and you had to quit everything because of me… I hope you can find a good job soon. They'll be lucky to have you._

 _Thank you for everything, you're the best._

 _Love you,_

 _Patricia._

 _P.S. – You better find yourself a wife and get her pregnant soon. I want nephews."_

Phil chuckled lightly as he read the letter. It seemed his sister was doing better.

The first few days she spent in the rehabilitation center were horrible. She fought and struggled and bothered everyone, punching the first doctor that put his hands on her, trying to calm her down. It took a lot of conversations and him finally snapping at her to make her realize the seriousness of her situation. Being deprived of drugs had been obviously hard on her, and the first few letters she had sent him showed that she was not coping with it. They felt like rambles from a lunatic.

Now she was doing better. Knowing she had managed to stay clean for a whole day was indeed something to be proud of. As he re-read the letter, he sighed once he got the part where she apologized for him quitting the army. It had to be done. He didn't hold it against anyone asides from himself. Luckily, his superiors had been pleased with how he did and promised to give a good word for him in case he applied for a job that involved enforcing security of some sort.

And now it was time to collect.

He glanced at the newspaper that was on the table. The page that was on display showed a photo of some animatronic brown bear smiling at the photo. The robot felt familiar, though he couldn't pin down where he had seen it before. The text next to the photo showed that a pizzeria called "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza" was due to open in the neighborhood, and they were in need of security.

Phil took a sip of his coffee and picked up the phone. The place was in need of a head of security, and was destined for kids. Seemed like a perfect job for him – a golden opportunity.

* * *

 **[A/N - Hello there! :D This is a flashback arc (as you may have noticed) that will explain Phone Guy's background and POV on the story. The events obviously take place before "The Night Shift", and will help explain some things... probably.]**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Best Job in the World

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

That was the name of the pizzeria; the place where, from that day forward, he'd be the one in charge of security. Thanks to a little help from his superiors at the army, he managed to ensure that the job would be his – now that being a soldier was no longer an option, he really needed to find another job. It was a lot of responsibility, but he was sure he was up for the task.

The manager of the pizzeria was a friendly man named Francis Anderson, who was more than eager to show him around the place and tell him all about the robots that would entertain the children.

"There are four of them," he explained. "Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie the Bunny, Chica the Chicken and Foxy the Pirate. The mechanic who made them is some sort of genius in the field – gave them the ability to think on their own and everything."

"So they're sentient? I didn't think that would be possible…" Phil commented, feeling impressed by the level of technology the pizzeria had.

Francis shrugged, smiling with apparent pride. "Anything is possible when you believe in something and work hard enough to get it," he stated. "And that mechanic is the living proof of it. She was only sixteen years old when she built her first sentient robots."

Phil looked at Francis, dumbfounded. "'Sixteen'?" he repeated. "Wow, uh… T-that's amazing!"

"Told you she was a genius," Francis said, chuckling at Phil's surprise. "Those first animatronics she made used to belong to a family diner in a town nearby… Place is closed down now… But we managed to buy the robots before they got rid of them."

"Really? Are, uh, are they part of the show too?"

"In a way… Come, I'll show you," Francis said, gesturing for Phil to follow him.

They stopped in front of a door labeled "Backroom". It was dark inside.

"There they are," Francis pointed out.

Phil stepped inside the room, turning on the lights. There were two animatronic suits sitting on a corner of the room. They had a golden color to them, and had similar black bowties and black buttons. One was a bear, and the other was a bunny.

"Wow," Phil said in amazement. "I can't believe a sixteen year-old built these…"

Francis nodded. "I was quite impressed myself," he admitted. "We had to recolor them, though. Give them a 'new life' sort of speak. Their bowties used to be purple, but we changed it to black."

Phil bent over to look at the robots more closely. "What are their names?"

"Now they're Golden Freddy and Spring Bonnie. Back at the diner they were named Fredbear and Ralfbunny, I believe," Francis replied. "Here, they are to be used by entertainers as suits, which leads me to give you your first assignment."

The new head of security stood up immediately, turning to face his boss. "Which is?"

Francis smiled. "We need someone to record training tapes. You know, to teach entertainers how to use the suits," he said. "Don't worry, I have a document that you can read from, no need to improvise."

The manager handed a sheet of paper to Phil, who took it and started reading. After a while, he nodded. "Alright, want me to do this now?"

"Yes, please. The sooner we have that sorted, the better. We will call in the mechanic to activate the animatronics tomorrow, in case you want to meet them."

Phil smiled. Yeah, he wanted to meet them! How many people could say they worked alongside robots who could think for themselves? He had a feeling he was really going to like working there.

With one look at Golden Freddy and Spring Bonnie, Phil sprinted out of the backroom and then settled on his new office. Pressing a button on the tape recorder, he cleared his throat to start recording his first message.

"Uh, hello! Hello, hello!"

" _I have to do something about this verbal tic…"_ He looked at the paper Francis had given him.

"Uh, welcome to your new career as a performer slash entertainer for Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Uh, these tapes will provide with much needed information on how to handle, climb into, climb out of mascot costumes. Right now, we have two specially designed suits…"

* * *

As days went by, it became obvious that Phil was correct when he guessed he would love working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. He felt his job was extremely satisfying. It was great to see the kids so happy to interact with the robots every day, and the staff seemed to be having a great time playing with them too.

His first meeting with the robots had been quite interesting. He knew they would be able to think for themselves, but he didn't expect them to have such distinct personalities.

Bonnie was easily the sweetest of the bunch. The bunny would appear out of nowhere to give him a hug – sometimes overdoing it on the strength he applied… - and was always eager to help. Unfortunately, asides from being pretty clumsy, the bunny was also very nervous and easily-scared.

"PHIL!" he heard the bunny call one day. His voice was soaked in panic. "Phil, help me!"

He hurried towards the place from which the voice came from, which turned out to be the laundry room. Bonnie was cowering in a corner, trembling.

"Bonnie, what are you doing here?" Phil asked, noticing there were dirty cloths scattered on the floor. "What happened?"

Bonnie pointed a trembling finger to the washing machine. "T-that thing! I -it's roaring at me…"

Even though Phil spent a whole hour reassuring him that the washing machine was not going to attack him in any way, the bunny was still cautious with it for three days. Foxy even offered to "teach that villain a thing or two" in Bonnie's honor. Bless him.

Foxy quickly grew to be Phil's favorite. The fact that the robotic fox was supposed to represent a pirate helped, since Phil loved pirate movies. But the fox's mischievous and courageous personality was what did it for him.

It wasn't uncommon for Foxy, Phil and Bonnie to spend some "bounding time" on Pirate Cove during breaks or the end of the afternoon, once doors were closed.

"Ahoy, lads, we are on the right path!" Foxy was announcing, one of those days, standing heroically at the edge of his ship-shaped stage in Pirate Cove. "Keep paddling!"

"Yes, Cap'n Foxy!" Phil and Bonnie said at the same time, pretending to paddle as they sat on the stage behind them.

Foxy narrowed his eyes at something only he could see, in front of him. Then, he gasped "Yarr! It cannot be…! There, in the distance," he yelled, pointing his hook at where he was glaring at.

Bonnie yelped, playing along. "Cap'n, that ship…! It's not who I think it is, is it?"

"Blackbeard," Foxy growled, pronouncing every syllable of the infamous pirate's name with hate. "Finally, the day has come! Now we will see who the real King of the Seas is!"

Phil chuckled lightly, amused at Foxy's dramatic performance.

The bunny whimpered behind him. "But, Cap'n, remember what happened last time?"

"The past is in the past, lad! This time will be different, I can smell it…!"

Their fun little game of pretend was cut short that day, however, once Chica opened the curtains of Pirate Cove and stood at the entrance, hands on hips, asking what on earth they were doing.

Chica was quick to adopt the mother-figure role. She was very protective of Bonnie, and the only thing she protected as fiercely as him was the kitchen.

"Phil, we need you on the kitchen!" called a voice from his handheld radio. "Code yellow, code yellow!"

Phil sighed. He knew "Code Yellow" stood for "Chica is pissed and is about to punch someone".

Once he got to the kitchen, he instantly understood what was going on. Apparently, someone had fun messing around with the ingredients, putting them in the wrong containers, and made an absolute mess. If Chica could breathe fire, she would.

"I want to know who did this!" she demanded, her eyes so wide it made her look completely demented with rage. "I'll beat them up until they're nothing but mashed potatoes!"

"There's no need for that, Chica…" Phil muttered, noticing how the cooks were all huddled in a corner, paralyzed with fear. "Calm down…"

"I AM CALM!" she exploded, her left wing – accidentally or not – colliding with a frying pan and making it fly all the way over to the opposite wall. "Can't you see I'm perfectly calm?!"

"Goodness, what is it with all of this infernal noise?" Freddy wanted to know, appearing at the kitchen door just on time to get hit in the face by the second frying pan Chica's wing collided with.

It turned out it had been Foxy the one responsible for messing with the ingredients. Phil suspected as much (the robotic pirate being the prankster that he was…), but he was pretty surprised to see that, as brave as Foxy was, even he was considerably apprehensive as he saw Chica approach him in a dangerous predatory slow-step, with a large knife in her hands, almost fuming with rage. From that day forward, Foxy decided it would be best for everyone if he just kept his pranks _far away_ from the kitchen.

Finally, Freddy was the perfect image of politeness and calmness. During all his years working as the head of security, Phil couldn't remember a single moment in which he saw Freddy truly angered. He would get slightly upset with his fellow animatronics' quirks sometimes, but nothing too serious. One thing that managed to aggravate the bear was, however, anything related with grammar errors or cuss words.

"So, this, um 's' and 'f' words…" Freddy looked at Phil with a furrowed brow as the man had finished explaining him what "bad words" were. "Children are not allowed to utter it?"

Phil shook his head. "They shouldn't be, no. It's rude, you know? Uh, some adults will say it, but, uhh… we can't really scold the adults, heh."

Freddy nodded. "Understood. But what if a member of the staff uses one such word in front of the children and they repeat it? After all, it is in a child's nature to copy the attitudes of the adults they see," the bear said.

"Oh, right…" Phil frowned. "Uhh… I mean, the staff knows they can't just go around saying those things in front of the kids, s-so I wouldn't worry too much…"

"AGH! Fuck this shit!"

Phil looked over his shoulder, startled. One of the entertainers was trying to climb into Spring Bonnie's suit, but something had apparently gone wrong and had gotten a pretty bad cut in his arm from the spring mechanism failing.

"Fuck this stupid…" the man hissed, holding his injured arm.

If Freddy could breathe, he would have filled his chest with air. He couldn't, however, but that didn't stop him from making the motion of filling his chest and stomped his way towards the injured entertainer.

"Sir, there is no need for such language," he scolded. The entertainer looked up at him, bewildered. "You are a member of the staff of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. You must be an example to our children, and not indulge in such vulgarities."

"What the hell are you -"

"I expect that you take on a more professional attitude from this day onwards, sir," Freddy added. "Remember, you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Do. Not. Disappoint. Me." He narrowed his eyes more at each punctuated word.

"You mean the children…" Phil whispered, having approached the two to check on the man's injuries.

"Yes, of course!" the bear coughed, adjusting his bowtie. "The children, yes… Do not disappoint the children."

Phil knew that the Spring Bonnie suit wasn't as safe as the Golden Freddy one. He wasn't sure why, considering they had the same age and were designed to be similar in functionality. Maybe, since they were sentient, Spring Bonnie was more unwilling to be used as a simple suit instead of interacting himself with the kids. At first, both the golden bunny and the golden bear were allowed to be themselves and interact with the kids, but with time, it became obvious that Golden Freddy was in a constant grumpy and annoyed state. He wouldn't be mean to the children, but wouldn't talk with them much, and when he did, they were always short and rough sentences. So, Francis decided it would be best if they were always used as suits.

As different as the animatronics were in personality, they all one thing in common – they loved their job. They adored keeping the children entertained and playing with them. They acted much alike children themselves, in reality, always asking Phil questions and following the staff around.

Phil also got acquainted with the other members of the staff, making some new friends in the process.

The night guard, Mattheus O'Vancey, called Matt by others, was a relaxed and confident man. Even though he only worked the night shift, he visited the pizzeria during the day often to hang out with Phil, and Donovan Symonds. He was especially good friends with Don, the day guard, who was much more introverted than him. Matt teased him playfully on a daily basis. Not that Don was the only one he teased.

"Look at that," Matt said one day during the afternoon, nodding at a table occupied exclusively by young women with a slight smirk in his lips. "Not a single kid in that table."

Phil shrugged. "This is a place for adults too," he reasoned. "They all have the right to be here."

Matt shared a look of amusement with Don. Phil noticed their expressions and frowned. "What? What – what's with that look?"

Don shrugged, seemingly trying not to laugh. "C'mon, Phil… We all know why they're really here…"

Matt didn't even bother to try and hold his laughter, especially once Phil blinked in confusion. "They want to check out the _real_ main attraction," he sneered. "The one and only chick-magnet, Phil Grays-"

"NO!" Phil interrupted, finally realizing what they were talking about. "N-no, no, no, don't call me that – look, uhh, they are just costumers, who want pizza…"

"And yet they didn't ask for a single slice of food since they got here," Matt retorted. "What they did ask for, however, was your number."

Phil flushed. God damn it, that was not the time for his skin to betray him. "You… y-you didn't give them the number did you?" he asked, worried. The last thing he needed was for all of those girls to start bothering him.

"No, because I knew you wouldn't be happy about it," Matt sighed. "Honestly, you receive this amazing gift from God and just throw it away… Hey, maybe I can get some of their numbers for myself…"

Phil preferred to clear his throat and adjust his tie, avoiding looking at the gawking girls at all costs. It didn't matter how many years went by, he still had problems dealing with girls. He got along just fine with Marize, who was one of the entertainers, though. She was a shy and kind girl who kept to herself. Matt and Don had tried to "fix them up on a date" or something, but naturally they refused. They both agreed that their relationship was purely that of friendship. Truthfully, Phil felt a need to watch over Marize as he would watch over his sister.

Speaking of who, his sister was pretty insistent on the idea of him getting married and having kids, but he only told her he had plenty of time to worry about that. All of the girls he had met so far didn't interest him. He was sure one day he'd find the right girl. And as far as the kids were concerned, he ended up getting four, somehow.

It had been six months since he started working at the pizzeria, and he got the news that there would be a new addition to the team of animatronics. A black and white slender robot, called the Puppet, that was meant to be controlled by a member of the staff. It hadn't been designed by the same "genius mechanic" that built the others, since, according to Francis, that mechanic had apparently disappeared. He just couldn't get a hold of her, and so he had to turn to other mechanics. Clearly not as talented, because that Puppet thing looked way too creepy.

But it was that day, when he announced to the animatronics that the Puppet would be joining him, that he got four kids, just like that. The robots had learned from the children that "parents" are adults that teach them stuff and give them love and attention. To them, that would be Phil. And well, their mother was the mechanic that made them, even though she wasn't around. Phil was happy. It gave him such joy to see those robots treat him as a father; just as much joy as he felt whenever he taught them things, played with them and comforted them (well, mainly Bonnie) when they were scared. He truly felt like a father whenever he did so. The proud father of four robotic children. Heh. He had one unique family, that was for sure.

They even threw him a birthday party one day. He was pretty shocked to arrive to the pizzeria and find the robots had decorated the place, including a banner that read "Happy Birthday, Phil". Foxy had made a pirate hat with Marize's help, Chica had made him a cake, and apparently Freddy had tried to make a figurine to place at the top of the cake to represent him. As horrible as it looked, he assured Freddy that it was an amazing gift.

Him, Matt, Don, Marize and the robots… They were like one big, happy family.

* * *

Two years after Phil became the "official" father of the robots, things started getting weird in the pizzeria. It started the day Phil got some upsetting news from Francis.

"… Are you serious?" Phil asked, leaning forward on his desk.

The manager was pacing back and forth nervously. "Would I really be joking about something like this? I can't believe that something like this happened…"

Phil brushed back his hair, huffing. Well, he couldn't say he didn't expect it. Since the beginning, the Spring Bonnie suits were unstable and he wasn't too sure if they were suitable for entertainers to wear. And now, their worst fears had come to life – someone got seriously hurt while wearing the suit.

"Where did that happen?" Phil asked.

"The most recent pizzeria, not even four months of business…" Francis ranted, frantically. "My father is fuming, he's been trying to get a hold of the mechanic that made them but it's like she was swallowed by the earth or something…"

"Okay, uh, c-calm down… Look, nothing too bad has happened here with the suit yet, right?" Phil said, taking the tape recorder from a drawer. "We should just… you know, warn entertainers not to wear the Spring Bonnie suit while we try to get it solved."

Francis nodded. "Father already said that, but he wants the Golden Freddy suit to be disposed off as well."

Phil looked up. "But that suit never gave us any problems… Uh, sure, his attitude wasn't the shiniest one around, but…"

"Do you think it matters to him?" he retorted. "We'll just stick to the four main animatronics, and keep the other two in the backroom while we get this sorted out. Oh, and one more thing…"

"What else happened?" Phil sighed, bracing himself for another set of bad news.

"Can you have a talk with Foxy? I knew he's into the whole 'pranking' scene, but if my father finds out he messed with the Puppet…"

Phil stood up. "What did he do?"

Francis rubbed his temples. "Matt just pointed it out to me… It looks like the Puppet moves on its own at night…" he informed. "Matt already knew the robots moved around during the night, and he was okay with it, but now the Puppet is moving too…"

Phil frowned. Since the beginning that the robots had to be kept active during the night – something about them not working properly if they were shut off for too long? He wasn't sure, mechanic wasn't his forte… - but the Puppet was a different case altogether.

"That's not possible," he affirmed. "The Puppet needs someone controlling it to move, it can't just move around as it pleases…"

Francis shrugged, still pacing back and forth. "That's what I said, but he showed me the tapes from the security cameras, and sure enough, there it was! The Puppet, moving around," he exclaimed. "So, the only explanation we get, is that Foxy has been trying to pull a fast one on our night guard, by messing with the Puppet. And if controlling it during the night to give Matt a fright wasn't bad enough, he even doodled on it."

"He… doodled on it?" Phil repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, the Puppet has two blue streaks on its face that weren't there before," Francis said, sounding annoyed.

The head of security scratched his head. That was odd. Foxy wasn't too keen on drawing, and he couldn't imagine him vandalizing the Puppet, as creeped out by him as he was. Controlling him to scare Matt was one thing, but this…

"I-I'll have a talk with him…" Phil assured, moving away from his desk.

Francis nodded, thankful. "Good, good. We have enough problems as it is…"

The talk with Foxy only got Phil more confused. The fox swore on his ship (which in a normal situation wouldn't be much, but considering it was Foxy…) that he didn't have anything to do with the Puppet moving around, and he definitely wasn't the one that drew the mysterious tear-shaped blue streaks the Puppet now sported.

Trusting Foxy was telling the truth, Phil had no choice but to tell it to Francis, who was not very impressed.

The Puppet's odd behavior was just starting, as it turned out.

On the months that followed, the Puppet started acting as if it did have, in fact, a mind of its own. No longer needing a member of the staff to control it, it interacted with the children by itself and seemed to be just as sentient as the robots. Phil was extremely confused – and creeped out – by this, but once he talked with Francis, the man didn't seem to share his concerns.

"Well, maybe it's just now gaining some sentience," Francis said in reply to Phil's worries. "The mechanic who made him tried to follow on that girl's notes after all, so maybe it just took some more time than the others… The children seem pleased, so it's not something to worry about, I'm sure."

Phil wasn't too sure. As friendly as the Puppet was towards the children, it acted oddly towards adults. Whenever a member of the staff approached it to talk, as they were used to do with the other robots, the slender monochromatic robot simply stared at them, not uttering a word. Soon enough, Phil was not the only one who didn't like the Puppet. But, as Francis said, the children liked it, so they should just go with it.

But that feeling that he got whenever the Puppet looked at him or any other adult was not easy to forget. It was a feeling that the robot did not like them _one bit._


	3. Chapter 3 - Failure

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

 **26** **th** **June, 1977**

"Kids, please, no running around! Be careful!"

The children looked up at Phil with startled expressions, but once they saw who it was that was talking they smiled and nodded.

"Sorry, Mr. Grayson…" one of the boys said, immediately slowing down his pace, while grabbing his friend's arm so he would do the same.

Phil watched the children walk away with a smile. Six years had passed since he started working at the pizzeria, but it still gave him great joy to see how much fun the kids always had there. The boy that had apologized to him was right now in the middle of a speech about how they should listen to "Mr. Head of Security", and Phil couldn't help but imagine if his own son would be well-behaved like that… or if he would be a little trouble-maker like his sister.

He was now married, and was expecting his first son. The prospect of being a father was fantastic, and, considering he had some sort of experience on parenthood due to handling the animatronics, he couldn't wait to have his son in his arms. They had already decided on a name – Marshall, a name Phil had always liked. His wife, Mary-Anne, had managed to do what until now his sister thought was impossible – not scare him off. She wasn't needy and wasn't constantly following him around asking where he was going or what he was doing. In his eyes, she was perfect.

The robots were almost as eager as him for baby Marshall to be born. Ever since he had announced to them that they'd be having a "baby brother" soon, they already argued about who would get to hold him first and what kind of things they would teach him.

Everything was perfect. His family was perfect. That day was supposed to be just another day… but it ended up changing everything…

There was a birthday being celebrated that day. A girl who was a regular at the pizzeria, and was turning 10. Along with her was her sister and three of her friends.

"Hi, Rika," he greeted, smiling as the little black-haired girl walked in.

"Hi Mr. Grayson!" She ran up to him to give him a hug, but, short as she was, she could only hug Phil's legs.

He chuckled and patted her head. "Happy birthday, sweetie. How old are you now?" he asked, though he already knew.

Rika showed ten fingers. "This many. I got to the double digits!"

Phil chuckled again. He remembered the first day Rika had visited the pizzeria. She was absolutely horrified of the robots back then. The poor kid was just leaning on a wall, wide-eyed, watching the animatronics closely as if she was expecting them to corner her at any moment. Phil noticed how scared she looked and approached her, assuring her that the robots were her friends and they would never hurt her. It took some time, but she eventually grew to trust them – while she didn't, she would still visit the pizzeria to hang out with her friends, though in reality most of the times she would look for Phil and follow him around, stating that she wanted to help him keep the other kids safe. She was such a sweet kid.

"Wow, my little helper is all grown-up," Phil complimented, ruffling her hair.

"Stop!" Rika giggled, trying to push his hand away before it would mess up her haircut. "Mr. Grayson, am I still on 'helping' duty today?"

Phil faked an expression of being deep in thought. "Hm, I guess since it's your birthday, I'll get someone else to be my helper. You get the day off," he stated.

The black-haired girl grinned, and then hurried to follow her sister towards the table that was reserved for them, telling Phil goodbye. He waved at her as she skipped away, smiling.

 _Who would know that would be the last he would see of her…?_

It wouldn't be until hours later that things would start crumbling down. Phil had been watching over a group of mischievous teens that had the unfortunate habit of visiting the pizzeria to try and bother the robots, when he saw Matt emerging from the washrooms, with the expression of one who had spent the last week without a single hour of sleep. He was rubbing his eyes, dark rings around them, and held himself against the wall as if he was seconds away from collapsing.

"Matt?" Phil called, worriedly. He walked up to the night guard, who took a couple of deep breaths, looking up at him weakly.

"H-hi Phil… How are, uhh… how's the birthday going…?" Matt wanted to know, his voice sounding weak.

"How are _you_ doing, that's what I want to know," Phil retorted. "You sound ill; maybe you should go home…"

Matt shook his head quickly, but he stopped just as quickly. It probably made his head ache. "No, no, I-I'm good… I'm… okay…" he muttered, gulping. "Where… where is the birthday girl? I, uh… I want to congratulate her…"

Phil looked around. "She should be… around here…" He frowned, as his eyes scanned the several happy faces he saw, to come to the conclusion he couldn't see Rika anywhere.

" _Weird… Maybe she's at Pirate Cove?"_ he thought.

Running through the crowd of children, Marize appeared, her face livid. "Phil! Phil, have you seen Rika and her sister? Her parents are here to pick her up, and I can't find them anywhere…!"

Phil felt his heart start beating more rapidly. This didn't feel right. Something was off. Something was going on…

"Did you check the backroom?" he inquired, trying to sound calm.

Marize shook her head. "N-no… I'll go look there."

She bolted on the direction of the backroom, while Phil turned to Matt, who looked at him with an apprehensive frown. "Matt, stay here. You look awful," he commented, to which Matt snorted a "Gee, thanks". "I'll go check Pirate Cove. Where the hell is Don?"

* * *

That day was burned in his brain as one of the most awful memories he had.

Upon hours of searching, they discovered not only did Rika and her sister disappear, but her three friends were gone as well. The day guard, Don, hadn't seen anything, and in fact, Phil didn't remember seeing him anywhere during the whole birthday party. Matt ended up actually fainting once they told him that the children hadn't been found, and the doctor affirmed that it had been due to stress that his health was being affected. When questioned about why he was so stressed, Matt just alleged "family issues". Marize came back from the backroom in shock, crying, saying that someone had used the Golden Freddy suit, and it was for some reason covered in blood.

Once Golden Freddy was activated, so they could ask him if he knew anything, the robot, according to the very upset mechanic, "went completely nuts". He tore his wires, eyes, and endoskeleton apart, shutting himself down permanently.

And things got worse and worse as the days followed. The police paid regular visits to the pizzeria, questioning the staff and trying to find any leads as to what had happened to the children, suggesting that it was highly probable that the perpetrator was someone who worked at the pizzeria.

Phil couldn't believe any of them would be able to hurt a child. He was, out of everyone, the one that was questioned more often – naturally, he was the head of security. In reality, he too felt responsible. He had failed. He was meant to keep the children safe, and yet five of them were kidnapped right under his watch. _He had failed…_ At each day that went by, he found himself snapping at others for no reason and arguing on the phone almost daily. That wasn't like him. This feeling of being useless and a failure was tearing him apart…

But it seemed like he wasn't the only one who was changing. The robots and the staff were too acting weirdly. He noticed it the day that Matt told him that Bonnie almost crushed him with a hug. At first, Phil found it very unlikely that the bunny, of all people (well, _animatronic_ ), would try and hurt him. When he asked Bonnie about it, the purple bunny was very evasive and simply said that he hugged him too tight on accident.

And Foxy… Foxy started to have a very irregular and unpredictable behavior. He would usually act normally, being his usual cheerful and mischievous self, but he would also snap with no reason, acting aggressive even towards children, even though he would deny it ever happened afterwards, as if he couldn't remember. At least in his case, however, there was a good explanation – the mechanic was pretty sure that whoever shut him down the day the kids disappeared didn't do a very good job, and ended up damaging the pirate's programming, maybe forever.

Then the day came when the police announced that, upon watching the surveillance cameras regarding the day of 26 June, they found who took the children away. Someone using the Golden Freddy suit, as they suspected, luring the children towards Pirate Cove… and when the person came out, taking out the yellow bear's head, it revealed… it was Donovan Symonds, the day guard.

"What – Don?!" Phil blurted out, looking at the bulky moustache-d police officer in front of him. "A-are you… No, no, it can't be…"

"We caught him on tape, Mr. Grayson," the cop declared, with a comprehensive expression. "I know it must be hard to believe, but it was obviously Mr. Symonds who lured the children away. We could not see what he did with the bodies, but…"

"B-bodies?" Phil repeated, his eyes widening. "I thought they were just m-missing… Officer McKinley, are you sure that they're…?"

The cop's eyes narrowed, as he looked over his shoulder to see his colleagues handcuffing Don. "Considering the amount of blood found on the suit used by the suspect, we have every indication that the children are dead," he informed. "We are still looking for them, but we believe they must be buried within the vicinity of the pizzeria."

Phil run fingers through his hair, looking around desperately for any indication that what he was hearing wasn't true. How could Don be a child killer? The very same person who was always ranting about his little sister, playing around with the children as if he was child himself… No, it couldn't be true…

"Don!" he suddenly called, turning around to face the day guard, whose gaze was unnaturally empty. "D-Don, tell me you didn't do it… Please… Th-this is a… a mistake, right? Please…"

Don didn't look at him. He kept staring at the ground, as the police officers took him away. Matt and Marize were near the door, watching Don being pushed harshly towards the police car that was waiting outside. They both had expressions of disbelief and shock similar to Phil's.

He didn't deny it. He didn't say anything to defend himself. Could he… have done it…? Could he have been deceiving him this whole time, pretending to be his friend? He didn't see it… He _failed_ … again…

* * *

If Phil thought that things could not get any worse, he was wrong.

Children dead, the pizzeria closed for investigation, Don taken into custody, and now…

The head of security had been looking for Marize, the entertainer, after the cooks warned him how tired she looked. It was as if some sort of epidemic was going on at the pizzeria, which was causing everyone he liked to grow weak and ill. Even the robots were feeling it – a weird liquid, similar to blood, coming out of their nostrils? That wasn't normal. His own "children" were being hurt… Yet something else he was failing at… All after the children went missing…

He shook his head, trying not to think too much about it, when he heard sobbing. Looking quizzically at the closed door of the backroom, he knocked on it. "Marize? Marize, are you in there?"

No one answered, but he was sure the sobbing was coming from there. He knocked again.

"F-five…" a soft voice sobbed from behind the door.

"Marize?" Phil called again, recognizing the voice. "Thank God, I've been looking everywhere… Uh, Marize… are-are you alright?" He leaned closer to the door, trying to listen.

He could hear the sound of something metallic scratching the floor.

"H-his life, seconds n-numbering…" Marize started singing, stuttering and sobbing mid-lyrics.

"Marize!" Phil pounded on the door this time, feeling like this was all starting to sound too eerie for his liking.

"Tick, t… tock, t-tick, tock…"

Phil finally kicked the door open, breathing heavily as his heart was pounding in his chest from the worry. Marize was sitting in the backroom floor, facing the Golden Freddy and Spring Bonnie suits.

"Marize…!" Phil called once again, walking towards her. "What is going on?"

"Goodness, father, what did you do with the door?!" Freddy demanded, emerging suddenly at the entrance of the backroom. "Certainly there was no need to kick the bloody door… oh." He stopped scolding the head of security once he noticed the small auburn-haired figure that trembled on the floor. "Marize, dear, is something wrong?"

Marize slowly turned towards them, revealing a large kitchen knife in her hands. Phil's eyes widened, whilst Freddy gasped.

"Marize! Put that down this instant!" he ordered. "That is one dangerous tool that should not leave the premises of the kitchen!"

The girl didn't seem to be listening to him. Her eyes, red from crying, twitched, as she wobbled like a mental patient. "It s-stopped, short… n-never to g-go again…" she sang, raising the knife.

"M-Marize… Uhh, why don't you put that down?" Phil asked, trying to make his voice sound calm. "Please… you could hurt yourself…"

Marize sobbed even louder, and closed her eyes. The next part of the lyrics that she sang, she bellowed them as if she was screaming for her life. "W-when the old m-man DIED!"

Red liquid sprayed on the floor. The cold blade of the knife sank in Marize's neck, so quickly it didn't even seem humanly possible. It almost looked like it was happening in slow motion.

"MARIZE!"

Phil held the entertainer's body, trying to stop the bleeding with his hand. It didn't take long for his arms and hands to be soaked in blood.

The bear animatronic stood at the entrance, staring at the scene unfolding before him with a paralyzing shock.

"Freddy! Get an ambulance!" Phil ordered. "NOW!"

The bear stumbled backwards, for the first time losing his composure all together, and dashed down the hallway, disappearing from Phil's view. The head of security looked at Marize, whose eyes were slowly losing the life in them. She looked back at him, now seemingly aware of what was happening. It was like the person who stabbed her neck was not her.

"I-it's okay, Marize… You'll be o-okay…" he whispered, trying to comfort her. Or was he trying to comfort himself?

Her eyes were wide in horror, as if she was seeing something Phil could not see looking above them. "P… pu…" she coughed, making more red liquid spurt out of her mouth.

"No, no, don't talk!" Phil begged, making more pressure on her wound.

Then, with the urgency of someone has to say something important before their time runs out, she held his arm, her wide eyes fixated on his. "P… purple…"

Her hand slipped off his arm, and those brown eyes kept staring at him, as Marize let her last breath leave her body.

* * *

Up to the day that the pizzeria finally closed its doors for good, Phil never found out what was the meaning behind Marize's dying words. Why would she say the word "purple"? The only purple thing at the pizzeria was Bonnie, but what would the bunny have to do with her suicide?

Phil sighed, as he saw the doors of the place he loved so much being closed, heavy chains ensuring that no one would try breaking in. The health department had destroyed any hope Phil had of the place managing to overcome the bad publicity of the children going missing and a member of the staff committing suicide. It was over.

"We'll reopen," Francis assured, as he tapped his shoulder lightly. "I'm sure of it. It will have to be someplace else, but I promise you – we will reopen. And when we do, I'll want you as the head of security again, Phil."

"But I failed," Phil said, looking at him. "I let five children d-die, and… Marize died… Everything…!"

"Was _not_ your fault," Francis completed, looking at him sternly. "Honestly, Phil, if you want to play the blame game, I'm afraid you're betting on the wrong person. We should be more careful about who we hire next time…"

Francis sighed, looking up at the sky as he buttoned up his coat. "I believe the robots must be waiting for you so they can say goodbye. Or should I say, 'until next time'."

Phil nodded, not really knowing what else to say to that man. The manager was still willing to accept him, even after all of his failures. He could only hope that at this new location, things would get better.

"When are you thinking of reopening?" he wanted to know.

"Oh there's no way of knowing… We should give the people enough time to recover from all the dreadful things that occurred here…" Francis replied. "Allow them to heal. Maybe ten years… I'd like if things didn't take that long, but…"

Francis' words were lost as the cold winter air blew past them. Phil took the man's silence as an indication that the conversation was over and turned to walk towards the van where the robots were.

It was time to say goodbye.

* * *

 **[A/N - See that police officer Phil talks to? You know, Officer _McKinley?_ Yeah, that's the father of the future husband of Phil's sister, Patricia :3 Funny how the world works...**

 **Healsowentmysteriouslymissingoneyearafterthis-Uh, what was that? No, I didn't say anything...**

 **Also, purple.]**


	4. Chapter 4 - A New Beginning

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

 **1987**

 _Ring Ring_

 _Ring Ring_

 _Click_

"Uhh, hello? Hello?"

"Ahh, I missed that verbal tic of yours…"

Phil chuckled, recognizing the voice on the phone. "Francis, it's been a while… Uhh, how's it going?"

"Good, good… Listen, I was just calling you to make sure that you're still willing to take over as head of security…" Francis said, noise of chattering being heard from his side of the line. "I want to have this place ready to run as soon as possible…"

Phil looked out the window of his car. There was a building there, labeled "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza".

It had been ten years since tragedy struck the pizzeria for the first time. Five children killed, by a member of the staff. By someone he trusted. There had been moments in those ten years where he thought he would never return to that place again, but there were others (most of the time, in fact) where he missed being there. He missed the robots, the children, the laughter, the staff…

"Yeah, I'm still on board," Phil confirmed, opening the door so he could walk out. "Um, I'm already outside the pizzeria, actually. Can I walk in?"

The call ended abruptly. For a horrifying couple of seconds, Phil thought something had happened, but then he spotted Francis opening the doors of the building, smiling warmly at him.

"Phil Grayson! You look exactly the same!" the manager commented, walking up to him to shake his hand cheerfully. "These ten years have been kind on you. I heard you have _two_ kids now."

Phil smiled. "Yeah, I do, heh. Marshall's ten now – a real troublemaker that one… My other one, Daniel, is three. So far, he's a little angel, but, uhh, you never know…"

Francis chuckled lightly. "Ah, kids. The greatest joy in the world. The reason why we opened Freddy's again," he stated, looking up at the new building proudly. "My son is ecstatic. Can't wait for it to officially open."

"How old is Greg now?" Phil wanted to know, following Francis as he led him inside the pizzeria.

"Ten, just like your Marshall. Can't complain, Greg is just a bundle of curiosity and imagination," the manager informed. "The inspiration behind one of our new additions…"

Phil stopped gawking at the decoration of the pizzeria – so similar to the one he spent six years of his life working at, but yet more modern and shiny – to look at the manager. "Additions?" he repeated.

"Ah! Right, I haven't told you yet." Francis stopped in front of Phil, now looking serious. "There have been some… issues, regarding the robots…"

Phil held his breath, dreading what was to come. What could have happened? One of the main reasons why he wanted to get back to being the head of security was to be with the animatronics again – his "children". He wanted to show them pictures of Marshall and Daniel.

"You see… We waited ten years for the whole situation with the 'Missing Children Incident' to be, let's say 'forgotten'…" Francis explained. "We wanted a fresh start. I wanted to keep the old robots, I really did Phil, but my father did not agree…"

"What did you do to them, Francis?" Phil asked suddenly, his eyes glued on Francis. He must have sounded more threatening then he wanted to, since the manager looked startled for a couple of seconds before clearing his throat.

"We, uhh… We tried to improve them with some of our newest technology, but… They looked too scary," Francis finally blurted out, almost sounding like he was trying to justify the decision. "And when we got them out, there was this smell… It's still lingering around them, actually… like something rotten…"

"Answer my question, Francis," Phil demanded, trying his best to sound calm this time.

Francis sighed. "They're being used for parts. For the new robots. Don't worry, they're not aware of it," he added quickly, spotting Phil's shocked expression. "They're shut down… Look, I'm sorry, but you have to agree that they were kind of ugly…"

Phil made a grunting sound as he crossed his arms. They looked perfectly fine back in 1977, but now they were considered "ugly" or scary. Kids today were too spoiled.

"So what, now they're just being picked apart for parts?" Phil asked, again controlling his voice. "They're never, uhh, gonna interact with the kids again?"

"I don't know. Honestly, I don't," Francis assured, trying to keep Phil calm. "Maybe in time I can convince my father to reuse them, but right now that's an impossibility..."

Phil nodded, though he was not happy with the decision, at all. "So, these new robots… they're sentient?"

"Ah yes," Francis exclaimed, obviously happy to start talking about something positive. "Our mechanic managed to copy the program that was used to make the original ones sentient. The point was for them to have the same personalities, but…"

"But…?"

Francis frowned. "Obviously, the original mechanic earned her title as a 'genius'. The programming makes them have random personalities, just like when a human being is born and we cannot tell how they will act."

The two men walked in between the already set tables of the dining area, until they were face-to-face with the show stage, in which there were five shiny robots. Four looked very similar to the original ones while the fifth one was completely new.

A brown bear, made to resemble Freddy Fazbear almost entirely, save for the fact he was chubbier than him, looked at Phil with a pleasant smile. "Good day, sir," he greeted. His voice sounded polite and articulated, like the original Freddy's, but it sounded more… childish. "You must be the head of security Mr. Anderson talked about."

Phil couldn't help but smile. "I am. My name's Phil Grayson." He showed a hand for the bear to shake, which he took immediately.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson _._ My name is Freddy Fazbear. _"_ The new Freddy sounded even more pleased to have been able to conduct an introduction properly, grinning and bouncing lightly. Phil suppressed a laugh. It was like a little kid trying to be polite and well-behaved to impress his parents, nothing like the original Freddy, who acted more like an old gentleman.

He then looked to the bear's right, where a yellow chicken blinked, smiling sweetly. "Hello, Mr. Grayson. I'm Chica the Chicken. How do you do?" she asked, with a small bow.

Phil frowned, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the robot up and down. Not only did this new Chica sound _nothing_ like the original Chica, she also had a curvy form, and was wearing pink shorts – _very short_ shorts. He looked at Francis with a raised eyebrow.

Naturally, Francis could guess the reason behind Phil's unimpressed expression. " _I know,_ I know… I tried, several times, to get in contact with the original mechanic, but just like back when the Spring Bonnie suit failed, I couldn't find her anywhere," he stated, he too looking at the new Chica with an apprehensive stare. "We had to get another mechanic to build the new robots… He did a pretty good job, even if his tastes can be somewhat… questionable."

"' _Somewhat_ questionable'?" Phil repeated, slightly annoyed. "Francis, she looks like something a person with a robot fetish would build. What do you think the parents are gonna think?"

"Um, excuse me…"

The two men looked at Chica, who was looking at them with a worried expression.

"Am… Am I ugly?" she asked, her eyes darting from one apprehensive face to another. "Is that why you're arguing? If you think the children won't like me, then maybe I shouldn't be around them…"

"N-no, no, uhh, it has nothing to do with that," Phil reassured. "You're not ugly, Chica. I'm sure the kids will think you're very pretty." _Unfortunately, so will the teenagers…_ , he thought, expecting mischievous teens to start visiting the pizzeria regularly just to mess with her.

The new Chica couldn't know what Phil was thinking, so she simply smiled warmly at his reassuring words. "Thank you!" she exclaimed. "I was so afraid they would think I'm ugly…"

"Pfeh, you can't be uglier than that piece of trash that's back at the spare parts room…" grunted a voice from her right.

All eyes were turned to the owner of the voice – a robotic bunny of an electric blue, with his hands behind his head and a bored expression. His green eyes darted on the new Chica's direction. "Honestly, I don't know why they keep those _things_ around." He was obviously talking about the original robots, stored in the spare parts room, being used to fix the new modern robots whenever there was a malfunction.

Phil stared at the blue bunny for a while. If he was supposed to be a new version of Bonnie, then he was even more different from him than the new Chica was from the original. He sounded rude, and much alike a rebellious teenager, miles away from the sweet-natured and innocent original Bonnie.

"So…" the new Bonnie started, looking at Phil with mild interest. "You're the head of security? I thought it was _our_ job to keep the kids safe."

"And it is…" Phil confirmed.

"Then what are _you_ gonna do? Walk around looking pretty?" the new Bonnie sneered.

"Actually," Francis said, interrupting Phil's impending retort before he could even get started. "His job is to make sure the staff is doing well and that you don't make a mistake. He keeps all of us safe, in essence."

"Right. Sure." The new Bonnie didn't sound one bit interested in what Phil had to say or do. From his posture, it was obvious he believed to be much more superior than all of others present in that stage. Phil was going to have a lot of problems with him…

"Well, uhh, so now you know the new Freddy, Chica and, uh, Bonnie…" Francis summarized, trying to steer Phil's attention away from them. "… And here, we have the new Foxy!"

He gestured towards a tall white robotic fox with a large pink bow. It looked completely different from the Foxy he knew, and it certainly was _not_ a pirate. The new Foxy had, however, lipstick on and nail polish.

Once again, Phil raised an eyebrow at the robot. It looked like this new Foxy was a _she,_ judging from the make-up. Why would they change Foxy's gender though? And also, what was that parrot-thing she had on her shoulder?

"Uhh…" he muttered, but Francis seemed to know what questions he was about to make.

"My father decided to change Foxy into a girl, so we wouldn't just have one," the manager informed, nodding at the new Chica. "Plus, the original Foxy was considered to be the scariest out of all of them, so… Now she looks more approachable. We gave her a parrot as a nod to how the original Foxy was a pirate."

Phil looked at the new Foxy. She was trembling slightly, extremely nervous. She smiled timidly, apparently not able to look at him straight in the eyes.

"H-hello, Mr. Grayson…" she greeted, almost whispering. "U-um, I'm F-Foxy… H-how are you?"

"Stop stuttering, geez!" the new Bonnie snapped, making the poor white fox jump and cower in fear. "Why are you so nervous? The guy can't do anything to us!"

"I-I-I-I-I…" Foxy started stuttering uncontrollably, finally giving up on trying to talk and covering her face.

"I-It's okay, Foxy, don't worry…" Phil said, stepping on the stage and putting a hand on the fox's shoulder. "It's okay… Just calm down, we're all friends here, right? No need to be nervous… I'm your friend."

Bonnie rolled his eyes. The parrot on Foxy's shoulder stared at Phil, as Foxy regained her composure and removed her hands from her face, whimpering.

She looked at Phil, smiling meekly. "O-okay… F-friend…"

"KRAW! Friends!" the parrot suddenly squawked. "Grayson friend! Grayson friend!"

Phil chuckled. The parrot didn't seem like that bad of an addition after all. The kids would probably think him to be hilarious. He looked at his right, noticing movement from the corner of his eye. Right next to Foxy was a small robot, apparently made to resemble a young child, wearing a striped shirt and a beanie with a propeller on top. He had a balloon in his hands, and was looking at Phil with bright and lively blue eyes.

"Hello!" he greeted, with an oddly familiar childish voice. "Mr. Phil Grayson, right? I'm Balloon Boy. You're my friend too, right?"

The head of security observed the new robot for a while before smiling. "Of course. Heh, Balloon Boy, uh? Can I just call you BB?"

Balloon Boy grinned. "Sure! But only if I can call you PG."

Phil chuckled loudly. "Hah, yeah, that sounds fair. Alright then, nice to meet you, BB." He bent over to show Balloon Boy a hand for him to shake.

The small robot took it immediately. "Nice to meet you too, PG," he giggled. "What's this called?" He was looking at their hands.

Phil was confused for a second. "Oh, you mean what we're doing? It's a handshake. We do it to greet someone or to seal a deal. Heh, in our case, we're doing both."

"Ohhh. What's a deal?"

"Uh, it's when we promise to do something for someone in return of that person doing something for us," Phil explained promptly.

"Ohhh," Balloon Boy said again, apparently pleased with having his questions answered. "Why do people do that?"

"Sometimes, they only way we can, uhh, get something we want, is to do someone a favor," he replied. "So, sometimes, we have to make a deal so… we know, everyone can be happy."

"But what if someone doesn't keep their part of the deal? What then?" Balloon Boy inquired. The new Bonnie could be heard yawning loudly.

Phil looked at Francis briefly, who shrugged and made a face that clearly said "This could go on forever". The head of security sighed. He didn't have the heart to just ignore the little robot, especially with the way he was looking up at him, with those child-like eyes waiting for an answer.

This was going to take a while…

* * *

"Sorry about that… Balloon Boy has been a very curious one ever since he was first activated. The staff is a bit tired of him already, to be honest…" Francis explained.

"It's alright," Phil said, chuckling. "I actually thought he was, uh, very much like a kid. And his voice…"

Francis chuckled. "Heh, you noticed? Yes, he was programmed to have the voice of my son, Greg. Maybe that is why they have similar personalities…"

It had taken a hour for Balloon Boy to finish "questioning" Phil, but now he could finally resume being escorted through the pizzeria by Francis, free to be impressed at the building's modern design.

"You guys must have spent a fortune on this…" he commented, glancing at the screens in the security guard's office.

"Indeed we have," Francis confirmed. "Especially with the robots. They possess an advanced mobility the old ones did not have, and a facial recognition system that is connected to a criminal database."

Phil looked at him. "Really? S-so they can, uhh, recognize a criminal?"

Francis nodded. "In theory, they should. Once they spot a predator, the police will be contacted automatically. All to keep the children safe."

The head of security looked at the screens. It was a big advantage they did not have in the pizzeria back in 1977… but it wouldn't do much if the predator had never been charged of any crime.

"You have a day guard and night guard yet?"

"Ah yes. I rehired Mattheus O'Vancey," he said, smiling once he saw Phil's surprised look. "I admit, he was a bit hard to convince though."

"What do you mean?" Phil inquired. Odd, Matt loved his job back at the pizzeria. Why wouldn't he want to return?

Francis shrugged. "Maybe he was just tired, I don't know. Or perhaps he was still apprehensive about the whole issue with Bonnie…" he muttered. "But once I told him the new robots were completely safe he eventually agreed to take over the night shift once again."

Phil was about to say he would be happy to count with Matt when his words were lost at the sight of someone – or _something_ – that was most unwelcome.

The Puppet. A member of the staff was carrying the slender black and white robot in his arms towards the dining area, passing by the two men hurriedly.

"What is that doing here?" Phil asked abruptly, before he could control himself.

Francis sighed. "I know you were never its biggest fan, Phil, but there was no reason for us to get rid of it. It acts just fine…"

"Right, the old animatronics are scary, but _that_ isn't?" Phil protested, gesturing vaguely on the Puppet's direction. "And what is that?" He pointed at a small music box that another member of the staff carried right behind the one holding the animatronic.

"Honestly, I am not sure," the manager confessed. "We found that at the old location when we went back to check if anything was amiss. It seems rather old, but still functions. And, surprisingly, it seems to have a calming effect on the Puppet."

Phil's eyebrow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Francis shrugged. "Whenever the music plays, the robot simply stops moving and goes into a, let's say, 'sleeping state'. We decided to bring it in, just in case something went wrong."

Phil looked at the music box, and asked the guy carrying it if he could look at it. It was a beautiful piece, actually. Carefully manufactured in wood, with elegant detailing in the lid and all the looks of something that should belong in an aristocrat's mansion. He opened the lid, and immediately a figurine of a Pierrot stood up, spinning as music played.

He froze. He recognized that song.

"My Grandfather's Clock," he muttered.

"Yes. A lovely tune, I must say," Francis commented. "I wonder how that ended up at the pizzeria…?"

Phil didn't say anything. The last time he had heard that song, he was seconds away from holding a dying friend in his arms. The lyrics Marize was singing just before she took her life… were of that song. "My Grandfather's Clock"…

* * *

"Matt, you seriously look _horrible."_

The night guard didn't smile or make any sign of even listening to what Phil had said to him.

"I want to be moved to day shift… Please…" he requested.

Phil raised an eyebrow. This was very unlike Matt.

It had only been three days since the pizzeria had reopened. The children were once again swarming in every day, pleased to interact with the robots, and blissfully unaware of how some of the adults were apprehensive about it. Phil couldn't blame them. It had been ten years, but the adults hadn't forgotten about what happened. Five children dead – that was kind of hard to forget.

Matt had so far done his job well, keeping the place safe during the night, but Phil could tell something was wrong. The first time he saw the raven-haired man, he was not the confident and laidback person he used to know. No, now he always looked tired and almost… fearful. While Francis affirmed Phil hadn't changed a bit in ten years, Matt sure changed a lot. Phil assumed it had to do with Don.

The two were close after all, it was probably hard for him to realize his friend was child killer. Don had been executed in 1984, naturally receiving the death penalty for the murder of five children, and Phil had avoided talking about that in front of Matt. He had gone to visit Don while he was still in prison, waiting for his trial, but in every visit, the previous day guard said the same thing – "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

"Why?" Phil asked, sighing as he leaned back on his chair.

Matt gulped. "It's the robots, they… they've been trying to get into my office since the beginning of the week…"

Phil's eyebrows arched. "Sure they do. They're, uhh, led by noise, right? They go where they think there's people," he reasoned. "You have nothing to worry about…"

"Phil," Matt called firmly. He was so pale the head of security stood up in case he collapsed on the table. " _Please_ , just… I can't handle them always trying to get in… I don't… trust them…"

"Alright, alright…" Phil said, trying to sound comforting. He was starting to think that maybe Matt shouldn't be working at all, judging by how weak he looked. "I'll talk to Francis about having you transferred… But you'll have to finish your week, so we have time to look for a replacement…"

Matt nodded eagerly, but it was without a smile that he thanked him and left the office. _Definitely_ not like the Matt he knew.

Phil sighed and reached for his phone. He had someone in mind to replace him, actually. He knew the boy was looking for a job, wanting to help support his mother since the death of his father. Phil had met his father. Served with him in the army, in fact. It was sad to know he had died, but at least he died on the line of duty, fighting for what he believed.

He waited a while for someone to pick up the phone.

"Uh, hello, hello! How are you, Jenna?" he greeted, then chuckling lightly. "A-always, you know me, heh. Uhh, hey, listen, is Jeremy still looking for a job?"

A small pause.

"Oh, he is? Because we need a security guard to work the night shift, you know? You think he can handle it?... Oh n-no, no, don't worry, it's an easy gig… I promise."


	5. Chapter 5 - Cursed

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

"That was a _lie_ , Phil."

Phil avoided looking up at his sister, but he could almost see her scowl. "No, it wasn't. Uhh, technically speaking, there is no solid proof that the children did indeed…"

Patricia hissed in impatience. " _Please,_ Phil, I love you, but you can be unbelievably blind when it comes to things you care about," she accused. "It's obvious that, yet again, children have gone missing at that pizzeria. Don't you think it's best to just close it down at once?"

He didn't reply. A small part of him, barely audible, agreed with her vehemently and demanded that Freddy Fazbear's was closed down before any more children could be harmed – but the majority of his being insisted that it was all just a big mistake and that the place should keep running, for the sake of the kids who loved going there and the robots, who had so much with their jobs… despite how odd they had been acting lately.

It almost felt like years had passed since he talked to Francis about moving Matt to day shift and hiring Jeremy Fitzgerald, the son of a late friend of his, to replace Matt on the night shift; in reality, it had only been four days. And in those four days, a lot had happened – all bad things.

Because of Matt's complaints regarding the robots trying to get in the office, Phil asked for a mask to be provided to the night guard, so the robots wouldn't bother him. All just a precaution, of course; Phil was sure the robots wouldn't hurt anyone, despite all the ridiculous rumors that had started spreading across town about how the robots stuffed the guards into suits or something. How on earth had those stories even got started on the first place…? But, it seemed things were going to work out just fine. Then, three days in Jeremy's first week, a new rumor emerged – the killer of the five kids back in 77 was still out and the one that had been executed had been framed. Phil wasn't sure who had started that rumor, but it got even worse; they claimed that the true killer was still an employee at the pizzeria. Naturally, some parents refused to take their children there afterwards, and the staff had a hard time handling some teenagers who questioned them about it and even some children who had heard the rumors.

Then, that day, 11th November, the police storms in, demanding to take a look at the place. Phil assumed someone had taken those rumors too far and actually got the police involved. Still, he aided with the investigation, certain that they wouldn't be finding anything – once and for all, the rumors would be put to rest.

One of the things that did worry him, though, was the animatronic characters' increasingly odd behavior. Around the same time that the rumors started getting more bothersome, the robots started acting unusual regarding the staff, and any adult costumers they saw. With the children, they would be friendly and protective as usual; but with adults, they would stare – almost glare – at them and rather bluntly tell them to leave. The night guard, Jeremy, had it worse. The robots continuously tried to break into his office at night, even down to the original robots, who weren't even supposed to be active anymore, and his mother was concerned he was having a nervous breakdown.

Concerned on how the boy would handle the night shift on his own, he got the habit of leaving him messages that would play at the start of his shift every night. That way, he could inform him on how things were going and also Jeremy would have some sort of "company", even if it was just his disembodied voice. On today's message, he assured Jeremy that the investigation was just a precaution and nothing bad was going on, which Patricia, naturally, disagreed with.

"This makes _ten_ children that have gone missing in the establishment – I know you love that place, but you gotta do something!" she insisted.

Phil finally looked at her. "Trish, we don't know if this time it has anything to do with the pizzeria… Uhh, sure it's a _coincidence_ , but…" Sensing that she was preparing another attack, he interrupted her. "Isn't Adam waiting for you?"

Patricia narrowed her eyes. "Don't change subject. But funny you mention Adam – he's been asked to join in on the investigation in case it turns out the kids did go missing at the pizzeria," she stated. "Since, you know, his _father_ worked the case back in 77."

Phil sighed. It was no use, he was going to listen to her rants as long as he didn't do something about the situation. But what _could_ he do? He had already helped the police, it's not like he had the authority to walk up to the owner and tell him to close everything down. Not that he would if he could… He just couldn't believe that the same thing could happen again. It just couldn't happen! The pizzeria had already gone through a lot, why were people still insisting on bringing up what was on the past?

And now, as if fate was mocking him, his sister was dating the son of Officer McKinley, the same man who solved the case of the missing children in 1977 and arrested Donovan Symonds. Who was also a cop. _And_ was going to investigate the case of the latest missing children if it was connected to the pizzeria. It had been years since Phil had seen Officer McKinley, and only when Patricia met Adam did he find out why – the experienced detective had gone missing in 1978. The man had plenty of enemies, considering the number of criminals he sent to jail, so the list of suspects was long. The case hadn't been solved, and his son refused to talk about it.

"Alright, I see you're not going to stop nagging me about it," Phil said. "I-I was just reassuring Jeremy, you know? Uhh, I can't just out and tell him that children died at the pizzeria without being sure…!"

"The police wants to lock down the building," Patricia started. "Sounds to me like they're pretty sure. They even got you to try and contact the original owners of that restaurant… what was it called…"

"Fredbear's Family Diner," Phil replied in a grunt, rubbing his temples. He spent an entire afternoon trying to get in contact with the original owners, but the only one who bothered to actually pick up the phone – someone called Leonard McNair – just told him very curtly that he had nothing to do with that place anymore and he would appreciate it if he wouldn't bother him again about it. He also told him to not bother his daughter either, but, having no idea who the man's daughter was, he didn't understand what Leonard McNair meant.

"Did you manage to find anyone, by the way?" Patricia wanted to know.

"No," Phil sighed. "The original owner died years ago. Natural death," he added, spotting Patricia's arching eyebrows. "And his son, Leonard McNair, wants nothing to do with it. I-I just asked for his employee listing, but, uhh… they apparently got rid of everything…"

"They had something to hide then," Patricia affirmed. "Why did the police want their employee listing anyway?"

Phil gulped. "They think the one, uhh, r-responsible is someone who worked at Freddy's… and maybe at Fredbear's…" he explained. "They said that something happened there… a kid died…"

"Just how many children have been killed in this franchise?" Patricia snapped, walking back and forth in despair. "And your boss is just whistling in his office, counting the money he makes every day, leaving you to handle the mess!"

"Francis is having his own problems as well…"

"I'm not talking about Francis, I'm talking about the owner – his father, Jack," Patricia clarified angrily. "Just how many times has he bothered himself to actually check on the pizzeria?"

Never. "I, uhh… he's a busy man, he has… other things to take care of…" he justified, shrugging.

Patricia sighed dramatically and shook her head. "I give up. You're a lost cause."

At that moment, the front door opened, and another woman walked in. A tall brunette, carrying two bags in her arms, followed by two boys who looked like younger versions of Phil. The older, Marshall, age ten, pulled along his three year-old brother, Daniel, by the hand.

"Ah, back already?" Phil smiled at his wife and sons, but Mary-Anne was looking at his sister, with an almost cold stare.

"Good afternoon, Patricia," she greeted.

Patricia crossed her arms with a slightly stern expression. "Mary-Anne." Her expression softened once she spotted her nephews, however. "And how are my favorite nephews in the whole world?"

"We're your only nephews, Aunt Tricia," Marshall pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"And where is my hug?" she demanded, opening her arms.

Daniel immediately released his brother's hand to hug his aunt, who stood up with him in his arms, squealing.

"How was school?" Phil asked as Marshall threw his school bag carelessly at a chair.

Marshall shrugged with a feigned innocent look, which could only mean trouble. Since he was not going to spill the beans anytime soon – he knew that much – he turned to Mary-Anne instead.

"Did something happen?"

"How should I know?" she simply said. "Look, I had a rough day at work, I'm tired." She rubbed her shoulder, as way of showing it. "Can you watch them?"

He looked at her for a couple of seconds before nodding. She was always tired from work lately, but, being a lawyer couldn't be easy, he supposed. She pecked his lips lightly, thanking him, and then made her way to their bedroom to rest.

Patricia immediately shot him an unimpressed stare. "She's tired?" she repeated, indignant. "She doesn't _know_ if something happened with Marshall at school? Pft, it's more like she doesn't _care."_

"Trish…"

"No, no 'Trish' nothing, once again you refuse to see the obvious," Patricia ranted. "Ever since Marshall started growing older, I can see it – she doesn't like kids. And she's been getting more and more distant as time goes by. Honestly, she's been tired for the last five years."

"Can you just – not now, alright?" Phil hissed.

He looked at Marshall, who had picked up his Math book and was starting homework. Usually, Phil almost had to drag him towards his books to get him to study. His son was trying to focus on something other than the accusations Patricia was making about his mother, he knew it.

Patricia too saw that and decided to take Daniel to his room, asking him if he wanted her to play "dinosaur" with him.

Phil ruffled his eldest son's hair lightly, and managed to get a small smile from him. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Mary-Anne play with either of their children. Or ask them anything… or _him_ anything… There were times in which he wondered if she even loved any of them anymore.

Maybe Patricia was right…

* * *

The next day, Phil could tell that the bad times for the pizzeria had only just begun.

It started early in the morning, and he barely had enough time to walk in the building to receive some bad news.

"Phil, thank God…!" muttered one of the entertainers, running up to him as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"What's the matter?" the head of security asked, having a familiar feeling of something not being right.

"It's Matt… Have you seen him?" the short man asked, sounding like the answer he would get from Phil could be his last hope.

Matt hadn't shown up to work the previous day. Considering how sick the day guard had been feeling since the pizzeria opened, Phil had just assumed he decided to stay at home for a day. He should have warned them, sure, but Phil just asked one of the entertainers to cover for him. They had known each other for years; it didn't hurt to do him a favor.

"I, n-no, not since… well, he didn't come to work y-yesterday, but I just thought he…" Phil stopped talking once he spotted the man's face get pale. "W-why, what happened?"

The man was getting increasingly more nervous. "No one knows where he is… No one has seen him…" he muttered, wiping more sweat off his forehead. "His sister just called us asking if he came to work… D-did you know that one of the kids that died in 77 was his nephew?"

Phil was taken aback by this reveal. No, he had no idea! In all those years…

"N-no, I didn't… He never said anything about… W-well he did mention he had a nephew, but…"

Now it made sense. Could that be why he didn't seem as confident and relaxed as he once was? Knowing that his nephew had been killed by his own best friend… How horrible…

"B-but he hasn't shown up again?" he asked.

The man shook his head. "No… I have no idea where he is. But Phil…" The urgency in his voice was obvious now. "I think he was obsessed with finding out if that guy they arrested back in 77 was the real murder. I think that's why he looked so tired…"

"Alright, but what does that have to do with…"

"We found evidence of a struggle," the man revealed. "In the spare parts room… Come, I'll show you…"

Phil followed him absent-mindedly. He was thinking about what proof Matt could have that Don was innocent. Phil himself wanted to believe that the previous day guard had nothing to do with the death of five children – especially the nephew of his friend – but the evidence on the contrary was overwhelming… Who else could have done it?

He froze, his brain finally processing the location in which he was heading. The spare parts room. The _spare parts_ room.

The entertainer looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What's the problem?"

Phil swallowed the answer, staring at the doorknob of the dreaded room. Ever since he started working there, he hadn't been to that room. He refused to go there. He didn't want to see the condition in which the original robots were…

"I'll, uhh… I'll just take your word for it," he stated quickly, clearing his throat. "What did you say you find there?"

"We found blood," the man repeated. "I think Matt was attacked by the real killer when he confronted him. But… why don't you want to come in?"

Phil decided to ignore the question, and instead made one of his own. "You think Matt went missing because th-the real killer…" He stopped talking, gulping. "You think he c-could be…"

The entertainer looked at him somberly. "Yeah. I do."

Phil looked around for a chair to hold himself on, but found none. First Don, then Marize… and now Matt… and the robots… Was everyone he cared about being taken away one by one?

He nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, uhh… Get in contact with the police… Maybe there's… maybe there's m-more evidence…"

The entertainer nodded and rushed for the phone, while Phil kept staring at the door of the spare parts room. He couldn't bear the thought of them being all torn up… It had already been bad with Toy Foxy… He tried convincing Francis to get her fixed after the kids kept tearing her apart, but to no avail… Now she was practically unrecognizable… Would the original robots, his "children", be like that as well? But he couldn't keep avoiding this. It had to happen eventually.

He reached for the doorknob, slowly, as if he was about to head for his doom. But, once he touched it, his phone rang. His fingers twitched and he shoved his hand back in his pocket, relieved to have an excuse to delay it.

"Hello, hello?" he greeted.

"Mr. Grayson?" It was the voice of Marshall's teacher. His body tensed up. "I'm Mrs. Richards. Your son's music teacher?"

"Y-yeah, I know… Is something wrong?"

"Well… Perhaps you already know this, but yesterday your son had a very heated argument with a few of his classmates," she explained.

Phil knew this of course. He managed to get his son to tell him about that the day before. Apparently, a group of guys from his class was bothering a younger kid, and Marshall scolded them. In that moment, he was proud of his son, for standing up for the weak; but now, he was afraid there had been repercussions for his son's actions.

"I know, y-yeah…"

"Today, he argued with them again, but they took it to another level," she sounded aggravated. "They ganged up on him and started a fight."

"What?!" Phil snapped. "T-they – how is he?"

"He's alright, don't worry. Has a couple of bruises, but trust me, they ended up worse. Your son's a fighter," she added, sounding proud on her student. "I'm just calling you because the principal wants to have a meeting with the parents of everyone involved, you understand…"

"Yes, of course! Uhh, have you contacted my wife?" he asked.

"I have, yes," Mrs. Richards confirmed. "But she said she was too busy and I should call you instead."

 _Too busy_? How could she be too busy to go to her son's school when he got beat up by a group of bullies?

"Alright, I'm on my way." Phil ended the call. He _was_ blind. Mary-Anne didn't care. He tried to ignore all the signs, he tried to tell himself that she was, in fact, just tired from work, that it would get better… But it wasn't going to get better. She was cold, distant, and she didn't care for her children.

But he did. If she wasn't going to be there for her children, then he'd just have to be there for both of them.

* * *

Everything was crumbling down again. It was like the name of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was cursed, and wherever the robots went, calamity and tragedy followed.

Five children. Again. Someone had taken the lives of five children within the walls of the pizzeria again. This time, the police found the bodies, hidden in the safe room. The pizzeria was closed down.

It was like a reenacting of what happened in 1977... The police considered the possibility of the murders having been conducted by the same person, but that, naturally, would mean that Don had been indeed framed. Why didn't he try to defend himself then? Phil remembered that Don didn't utter a word in his defense when he was arrested, and just kept saying "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry".

And it wasn't just hard in his workplace. Things at home weren't that cheery either. He could finally see things clearly. He wasn't blind anymore.

The argument with his wife had been painful, and the silence that settled in the house once she stormed off was even worse. But he knew it had to be done. He just couldn't keep telling himself things were going to get better. They weren't. She was distant from the kids, not really caring for them, and didn't even show that much appreciation for him either. After all he did for her…

At least he had his sons. Marshall had been very quick to assure him that if they got divorced, he'd want to stay with his dad. It was sad to realize that even his kids didn't like Mary-Anne anymore due to her indifference, and he hadn't been able to see it all this time. At the same time, it was a relief for him to know that, at least, had done a good job at being a good father.

* * *

The last day the pizzeria stayed open was stained by yet another horrible event that would be burned in Phil's memory forever.

A birthday had been scheduled to take place there, along with a gathering of his son's class, accompanied by their music teacher, Mrs. Richards. His son didn't attend, as he didn't feel like seeing the kids he fought with so soon after their argument. In the end, it had been a good decision on his part.

Jeremy, after an extremely stressful experience as the night guard for six days, was transferred to day shift. Phil had considered it to be the best option, since Matt was still missing – and presumed dead. The case was still being investigated by the police.

Things were going normally for a while. But then…

"What are you doing?! Let go of that boy, right now!"

Phil had been, yet again, trying to gather the courage to enter the ominous spare parts room and see how the original animatronics were when he was snapped out of his concentration by the voice of Mrs. Richards. From the sound of it, she was scolding someone.

He sighed and started to make his way down the hallway, towards the dining area. As he was getting closer, he heard several voices – teenagers, protesting – and he recognized them as being a couple of boys that had been given the job of spreading pamphlets through the neighborhood and help the entertainers for some money. One of them was the older brother of the birthday boy.

"We were just joking around!"

"Calm down, lady, we weren't doing anything wrong…"

"Not our fault he's a big baby."

"Erik, he's your brother, I thought you were supposed to look after him?" he heard the teacher say.

Phil shook his head. Not again… It was no surprise to him that Erik Martins would pull some kind of dangerous prank on his little brother. He was always scaring him, leaving him behind at the pizzeria and teasing him to no end. The kid was already terrified of that place, he didn't need to have his brother making it worse…

"Oh please, he's not hurt, is he? Look, he's perfectly – holy shit!"

The voices changed. Someone screamed. A horrible, blood-curling scream.

The head of security ran to the dining area, to find people running and screaming everywhere. Kids were crying, being whisked away by their panicking parents. The teenagers screamed, backing away from something. Only when Phil got close to where they were could he see what had gotten them so scared.

Toy Foxy. She was not in Kid's Cove anymore. She was up on her back legs, her body twisting as her jaws were carved in Mrs. Richards' skull. Blood splattered everywhere, flooding the floor. A red-haired girl that was next to Mrs. Richards stared at the scene, too horrified to move, still pulling at her teacher's sleeve as if she was begging her to take her away from there.

Phil darted on their direction. The birthday boy was cowering in fear in front of Toy Foxy, begging his brother to get him away from the fox, but Erik was just as scared as he was from the looks of it.

"Ryan!" Phil called, taking the boy in his arms and getting him away from the white mechanical fox. The boy sobbed loudly and held on to him for dear life, not daring to look back.

Jeremy was also approaching the scene, and grabbed Toy Foxy's upper jaw, trying to force her to open her mouth.

"Let go of her, Mangle!" he ordered. "C'mon…!"

With one powerful push, he managed to force the fox's jaws to open, making Mrs. Richards fall over her student, who only then started screaming, as if the full horror of the situation had only settled then.

Phil wanted to help Jeremy, but Ryan was too scared to let go of him. Other members of the staff only stared, horrified, while others complied to his silent call for help and sprinted towards Toy Foxy to shut her down. Before they could, however, the fox turned her head on Jeremy's direction, who was trying to comfort the little red-haired girl.

"Jeremy!"

The day guard heard Phil call him, and only barely did he manage to avoid the fox's jaws.

" _ **dOn't TOuCh bzzzzt the CHILD"**_ she growled, as she charged at him menacingly. **"StAy bzzzzt BACK"**

"I'm not trying to hurt them!" Jeremy shouted, dragging himself across the floor as the robot crawled after him like a predator. "Stay back, please!"

Things were getting out of hand. Phil could see the day guard was very close to having another nervous breakdown, and with good reason. When Jeremy hit a wall, and had no other place to run to, he looked absolutely terrified.

"Foxy!" Phil called, finally managing to get Ryan to run to his brother.

The fox stopped. Her left ear twitched, as if she recognized his voice. She looked back at the head of security.

"Keep him safe, for once," Phil ordered to Erik, before turning back to the crouching robot. "Foxy, stop. Jeremy is not here to hurt anyone."

" _ **LiES"**_

"He's trying to help. You're the one that's scaring everyone!"

These last words seemed to have an effect on her. She looked up at Phil with an almost shocked expression. _**"s… sCare…?"**_

"This isn't like you, Foxy. You're kind. Look at what you've done."

She glanced at the red-haired girl, who was still refusing to let go of her teacher's bloodied sleeve. She then turned her head towards Ryan, whose brother was, perhaps for the first time in his life, trying to comfort him.

Her eyes finally stopped at a young girl who was hiding under a table nearby, sobbing. Once the girl saw Foxy looking at her, she cringed and hid her head. "NOOO! Go away, go away!"

Foxy's ears dropped, and she looked at the floor. _**"k-kEEp tHEm bzzzzt SAFE from bzzzzt M-MONSterS"**_ she stuttered. _**"MonS bzzzzt TERs… but… I'm bzzzzt the MOnStER… I'M THE MONSTER"**_

She screamed. A loud "SKREEEE" noise echoed through the walls, but Phil knew she was not screaming to be threatening this time. She was screaming from _pain._

One of the staff members failed to recognize it as such, and thought she was getting ready for another outbreak of violence. He took a bottle of water and poured the liquid on the robot, in a desperate attempt to get her to short-circuit. Her limbs twitched violently, her voice cracked more than ever, and she finally collapsed on the floor.

Phil took slow and cautious steps towards her, looking down at her sadly. Was the Foxy robot too cursed to always ending up breaking down and scaring the very people they were supposed to protect…? She was such a sad being… Built to keep children entertained, then forced to be torn apart by them on a daily basis… and now this… And she was so kind and timid. What could have caused her to do all of this?

Toy Foxy followed him with her eyes. She twitched once more.

" _ **G-gRaySON… fRIEND…?"**_

Phil forced a small smile, though in reality he almost felt like crying. "O-of course."

" _ **s-ScArED… of… bzzzzt… mE?"**_ She sounded like she was begging.

"No. Never."

The light in her eyes flickered. And then vanished.

* * *

 **[A/N - :( Mangle is bound to be a tragic baby**

 **Also, that red-haired girl - wonder who that is...**

 **The "Bite of 87" with a twitst - I thought up the story behind the Bite before "Five Nights at Freddy's 4" was released, but I managed to include the kid and his dick of a brother in the story still, with some changes.]**


	6. Chapter 6 - A Change for the Worse

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

 **1992**

Phil stood menacingly in front of the child, a victorious grin in his lips. The eight year-old had been trying to escape him for so long, but now the chase was over. And the little boy knew it. He ended up running into a room from where there was no escape other than the door he had just gone through. No way he was going to get out from there.

"Well, well, seems like there's no place for you to run to this time," Phil sneered, not bothering to get any closer to the child. There would be time. The boy was going nowhere now.

The small boy looked at him and gulped. "Please, have mercy…" he begged.

Phil chuckled evilly. "I don't know the meaning of that word." One step closer to his prey and the game would finally be over.

"No, wait, this isn't fair!" the child cried out, as the adult approached him. "You can't – GAAH!"

A scream of horror echoed in the walls.

A groan followed, coming from the room to the immediate right. "Ugh, can they be any _louder_ …?"

Within seconds, a brown-haired teenager appeared at the door, looking extremely annoyed. "Dad, can you keep it down? I'm trying to kill zombies over here," he said.

His younger brother's scream had transformed into hysterical laughter as his father tickled nearly every inch of his body. "N-No, please, stop!" he laughed, squirming as he tried to get away.

"What was that? Can't hear you," Phil mocked, casually tickling his youngest son while keeping him pinned down with little effort. "This is what happens when you break into my candy supply. Are you sorry?" he asked, allowing his son some seconds to answer without the tickle-torture.

"Y-yes," he giggled. "I'm _very_ sorry."

Phil observed him for a while with a fake menacing look. "Don't care." And he went back to tickling.

Marshall rolled his eyes at the entrance. "Aunt Tricia, dad's tickling Daniel to death again," he groaned loudly.

His dad narrowed his eyes at him, letting go of Daniel immediately. "Tattle-tale."

"Whatever."

Patricia appeared at the doorway next to Marshall, hands in hips and an amused look on her face. "Phil, what are you doing…? You're supposed to act like an adult," she scolded.

"I do act like an adult!" her brother defended himself, though at the same time, he smacked Daniel's neck playfully.

"Ow! Aunt Tricia!"

"Don't rat on dad," Marshall said, smacking his brother's neck as well, though with a little bit more force than Phil. "Only I can do that."

"OW!"

Patricia shook her head, smiling. "Marshall, stop that." She sighed dramatically. "I'm surrounded by children…"

"Teenager," her older nephew corrected, pulling his brother's ear casually, unfazed by his sibling's protests.

"And you." Patricia pointed at Phil with a threatening stare. "You're grounded."

Phil got a shocked expression. "Y-you can't ground _me_! _I'm_ the older brother!"

"Does that mean I can go back to being a super-badass zombie apocalypse survivor now?" Marshall wanted to know, though he did not wait for a response and simply turned his back on all of them as he retreated back to his room.

"Oh, can I go play with you?" Daniel begged, following his brother. "Please!"

"No."

"C'mon, please…! You never let me play with you!"

Phil chuckled as he watched his sons quarrel on their way to Marshall's room. Life had been good to him, considering…

Ending a marriage that had lasted for twelve years was an emotionally painful experience, especially considering how little his wife fought against it. She didn't even try to salvage things. Nor did she ask to have custody of the kids, which Marshall was quite thankful for. And not only did he lose his wife, but he also lost his job.

It had been five years since the second Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria he worked at closed down. After only two weeks of being open for business, the attack on Mrs. Richards, which later became known as the "Bite of 87", was enough for Francis to decide it was time to close the pizzeria for good and that he would not take over management of another establishment again. The Toy Bots were destroyed, along with the Puppet and Golden Freddy, the latter having been taken by the police as an essential piece of evidence regarding the connection between the death of the five children from 87 and the ones from 1977.

Not only had ten children died at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, but there had been some casualties amongst the staff as well. Phil had lost good friends… First Don, arrested for the murders and then executed, then Marize, who killed herself…, and then Matt, who just vanished. To this day, no one had been able to figure out if he was dead or just missing. Though, believing that he had indeed figure out who was the culprit behind the death of the five children from 1987 and that he confronted the person, it would be very unlikely that he would still be alive. And if all of that wasn't enough, there was Jeremy…

Phil had assured his mother that he would be okay, that things would be easy… But the boy obviously went through a lot during the week he worked as a night guard, probably more than he cared to tell him, and finally, when the "Bite of 87" took place, he completely broke down. He was already a very nervous boy, sometimes having panic attacks, but he managed to face up against Toy Foxy to try and save Mrs. Richards. But seeing the fox crawl after him like a predator, knowing that she would do to him exactly what she had done to Mrs. Richards if she caught him, was too much. He stayed silent for days, and when he finally started talking again, he made no sense. He saw things no one else saw, ranting about "a girl with balloons" who followed him around, _and_ he almost stabbed a doctor's eye out when he tried to calm him down with a music box. Understandably, it had been a while since he had any news from them – his mother probably blamed it all on him. He felt guilty about what happened to him as well; he was the one that got him the job, after all.

He was sure that the "Bite of 87" had marked the end of Fazbear Entertainment. But he was wrong. In 1990, the very first pizzeria he worked at was reopened, with a new manager. Phil had avoided showing how much he wanted to go back and work there to his sister, as he knew she would never approve. She had been very vocal about her dislike towards the way the management handled things.

But the good memories he had of the six years he spent in that pizzeria were not easy to let go of. More than anything, he wanted to see the robots again, knowing that the company had recovered the originals and were using them rather than try and replace them with newer versions. From what he knew, they didn't have the money to make brand new robots now, because of the lack of costumers and compensations that had to be made to the families of the ten deceased children.

Without Patricia knowing, Phil had visited the pizzeria during the day. He wanted to see the animatronics perform again, and talk to them if he could. He found, however, that the animatronics did not leave the stage like they used to. They remained restricted to that one area, watching the children with an eerie blank stare and a frozen smile. He figured it was probably a precaution, to avoid another "Bite of 87" from happening. The pizzeria wasn't doing too good though, regardless – it was rare to see a week go by without a job offer to work the night shift appearing in the newspaper.

Phil frowned, remembering the rumors he had heard about it. People were under the impression that the night guards were, one by one, being killed by the robots, and then stuffed into suits. It was obviously an evolution of the previous rumor that had spread back in 1987. There was obviously something weird going on there; it wasn't normal that any establishment would change night guards so often. And remembering what happened to Matt and Jeremy certainly made him curious about what exactly happened during the night that got all the guards so worked up. After all, during the day the animatronics acted normal.

"You're thinking about the pizzeria again, aren't you?"

Phil was startled to hear Patricia talk to him, almost having forgotten she was there. He stood up and cleared his throat, trying – and failing – to look relaxed. "N-no, I was just, you know… Thinking about, uhh… life…?"

"You were always a terrible liar," Patricia snorted. "They're looking for a night guard again." She threw a newspaper she had folded in her hands at him. "I think that makes night guard number 27…"

Phil glanced at the job offer he had seen so many times before with an apprehensive stare. Definitely not normal. _Twenty seven?_ "Wow, that, uhh… that's a lot of night guards…" he commented. "Wonder why they always leave?"

He spotted Patricia staring at him with her arms crossed.

"You want to go back, don't you?"

He sighed and scratched his head. "Look, I, uhh… I'm not gonna lie, I miss being there…" he admitted. "B-but a lot of stuff happened, I have Marshall and Daniel to take care of, and…"

"If you work the night shift, you'll still be with them during the day," Patricia stated flatly. "And they can sleep at my house so they're not by themselves."

Phil looked at his sister, surprised. Was she implying what he thought she was?

"Trish…"

"You love that place too much, Phil." She seemed exasperated, but smiled nonetheless. "It doesn't matter how many bad things happen there, you'll always love those robots and you'll always want to go back. I know you – it's tearing you apart to know the place is open and you're not there."

He looked at her incredulously as she walked up to him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"I should blame myself, really. If I hadn't gotten involved with that jerk you wouldn't have left the army and would have never gotten that job as head of security. Then again, if you didn't work at the pizzeria, I would have never met Adam…"

Phil chuckled. "All for the best, right?"

She smiled. "Take the job offer, big brother. If there's someone who can keep that job for more than a week, that would be you," she stated. "I'll support you. And I'll expect family discount on that pizza…"

"A-are you sure?" He tried not to sound too excited about the prospect of going back to work there, but she didn't need to hear the emotion in his voice. She could tell by looking at him.

"Of course. What kind of a sister would I be if I just let you stay miserable?" She hugged him tight. "Make me proud."

He hugged her back. "Isn't that what I've been doing all my life? I thought for sure I was… M-maybe I'm doing it wrong…"

She laughed and patted his back harshly. "If you don't make it out of there, I'll kill you."

* * *

Phil stepped inside the pizzeria in which he spent six years of his life, with mixed feelings of worry and nostalgia. He longed for more six years of happiness and fond memories with the animatronics, but he was also worried about all the bad things that also took place there.

Two pizzerias he endured, without anything too bad happening to him, while everyone else got hurt. He wanted to be confident that this time it would be different, but a little voice inside him kept warning him that maybe, just maybe, third time was the charm.

He had told Jeremy that he would probably take over the night shift if the pizzeria reopened in one of his messages, but in time, the idea faded away amidst all the worries about the divorce, the death of five more children and the Bite. Now he was going to hold up to that commitment.

He looked around, trying to find the manager. There weren't too many people at the pizzeria, much unlike what he was used to, so it shouldn't take too long for him to find the manager. In fact, it only took a couple of seconds for him to be approached by a tall black-haired man with a piercing stare. Phil blinked in surprise.

"L-Lawrence Richards?" he stammered. He was not expecting him, of all people, to be the new manager of Freddy Fazbear's. Not considering everything that happened to that man that related to the pizzeria…

"Phil Grayson." The manager held up a hand for Phil to shake. "Been a while since we last saw each other."

"Y-yeah, five years…" Phil would never forget that. It was the day when he had to call him, telling him about how his wife was attacked by Toy Foxy. "I, uhh, never would have thought that you'd want to own a pizzeria…"

Lawrence sniffed. "Things change. People change. So you want to be a night guard?" he asked, obviously deciding to not develop too much on the reasons behind him wanting to own Freddy Fazbear's.

"Uhh, yeah. I heard that you've been having a lot of problems with finding one…"

"We've had too many," the man grunted. "It takes too much money to keep posting the job offer on the newspaper." He turned his eagle-like eyes on Phil's direction. "You better stay here for a long time."

Phil chuckled. "Heh, I'll try… How are the robots?" He looked at the show stage, where the animatronics still were, staring emptily at the small crowd.

Their eyes looked at him, and, even though their expressions remained unchanged, he could almost see a glint of happiness in their robotic stare.

He was happy too. He was back where he belonged.

* * *

Phil glanced quickly at his watch before seizing the tablet he had at his disposal. He had just gotten installed in the office in which he'd stay for six hours straight every night, and couldn't help but feel a sense of oppression as his shift started.

The division was dark and small, and the heavy doors he had on each side only made him feel like his life was in serious danger. The drawings made by children were exposed on the walls, and there was a lot of dust everywhere. Phil wrinkled his nose before checking the tablet.

He was supposed to switch through the camera views to make sure everything was in order – not that he didn't know, the night guards from the pizzerias he worked at had to do the same, but with monitors instead of a tablet. He smiled as he looked at the show stage camera. The robots were still there. He couldn't wait for them to get up and go pay him a visit.

After two hours of nothing happening, Phil was starting to get bored. He almost got up to head towards the show stage a couple of times, but managed to control himself, thinking that he should not leave his station in case something wrong _did_ happen. He checked the kitchen camera, just to see if it was still inactive, and then checked the show stage. Bonnie was not there anymore.

" _Heh, figures he'd be first one to get a move on."_

He followed the bunny's movements through the camera views, but his smile quickly turned into a frown. Bonnie didn't look right… Lawrence had assured him that they still maintained their free-roaming mode during the night, but Bonnie didn't look okay at all. He walked very slowly, almost as if he was struggling, and had an expression of dread on his face.

Phil looked at his left door once Bonnie appeared on the camera closest to his office. He turned on the door lights, and sure enough, the purple bunny was standing there, staring at him.

"Hey Bonnie," the new night guard greeted. "Heh bet you didn't expect seeing me here. It's been a while…"

Phil was expecting the bunny to jump out and hug him, like usual, but the greeting never came. The robot just stood there, staring at him with the same expression of dread. It only Phil a couple of seconds to realize something was definitely very wrong.

"Bonnie…?"

The bunny didn't answer his call, instead moving his hands slowly towards the door frame.

Out of instinct, the former head of security clicked the door button to seal the entrance. His reaction was that of self-preservation, but he didn't understand how he could be in danger. I mean, it was Bonnie! The bunny would never hurt him! Then again, that thing when he almost crushed Matt with a hug…

He picked up the tablet and checked the show stage again. Chica and Freddy were still there. None of that made any sense. Usually, if the robots knew Phil was there in the building with them, they would immediately run up to him, especially considering how long they spent without seeing each other. Switching through the camera views again, he couldn't help but notice how the suits in the backroom had dark stains in them. Could that be what he thought it was…?

" _Nah… N-nah, I'm sure it's nothing…"_

* * *

Three days in his new job were more than enough for him to have the utmost respect for anyone brave enough to take on the night shift at the pizzeria. All this time he had no idea what was really at stake whenever a guard was alone with the robots. But now he knew.

The animatronics didn't recognize him at all. They didn't talk to him, they showed no sign of affection, and what was worse, they continuously tried to get inside his office. Something in his gut told him to never let them in his office, but at the same time he couldn't imagine them ever hurting him.

He had a very serious talk with Lawrence about the robots' odd behavior, and discovered, with horror, that there was some definite truth to the rumors of the guards being stuffed into suits. According to the manager, he had already lost five guards, and several others disappeared, though he was pretty sure those ran off to never return. Phil couldn't believe the robots would willingly kill someone; there had to be a reason for their actions…

After a lot of thinking, he considered that the only explanation was that, in time, due to disuse and being picked apart for parts back in 1987, their programming stopped working properly and they could no longer recognize people during the night, seeing them as endoskeletons. It would explain why they tried to place the people inside suits – they were getting them into uniform again. It didn't explain why they didn't talk or act like they normally did, but at least it gave some sort of valid explanation for why they killed people. They didn't mean it. Phil had to believe that they didn't mean to do it, and that it was all a case of mistaken identity… It had to be because of messes-up programming… it had to be…

He was surprised with how long he managed to endure the pain of seeing the animatronics he loved so much act like mindless hunting machines who tried to break into his office to stuff him into a suit every night. He was even more surprised at how long he managed to hide it from his family. "Everything's fine", he said whenever they asked him about his job. "Yep, the robots are friendly as usual". All lies, but he couldn't tell them anything – partially because he didn't want to worry them, but also because it was part of the contract. He would talk to the robots, not expecting any sort of reply of course, mostly just to have something to do. To keep his sanity, sort-of-speak.

As four months went by, Phil realized he was going nowhere with his job. The robots weren't how they used to be anymore. The pizzeria was not what it once was either. He didn't understand why Lawrence insisted on keeping the place open. It was pointless – the robots couldn't interact with the children, guards were dying, and there were less and less costumers every day. The only reason why he was still on the job was because he couldn't bear the thought of some unlucky guy come replace him and end up dying.

But, near the end of the fourth month, he decided it was time for him to quit. His sister was pregnant now, and he wanted to be a part of his nephew's or niece's life. He didn't want to end up getting killed by the robots he cherished so much and never see his children again. He loved those robots, but he had to be there for his family. So, he talked with Lawrence, and told him that he would only be working there for two more weeks. The robots were starting to get more and insistent on trying to break into his office as time went by anyway – he didn't think he would be able to hold them off forever.

Still, he couldn't just leave the next night guard without any advice. He felt the need to ensure that the next one to face the robots would at least have some information beforehand and they wouldn't just freak out at the sight of the robots trying to get to him, resulting on them getting killed. So, as his last week started, he decided to record messages, just like he had with Jeremy back in 87.

"Hello? Hello, hello?" was how he started his first message. "Uh, I wanted to record a message for you… to help you get settled in on your first night…" He paused to close the door in Chica's face. "Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you, there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine!"

He could almost hear his sister saying "That's a _lie,_ Phil!" But he couldn't just go and tell the next night guard he's going to die a horrible death if he wasn't careful!

"So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay? Uh, let's see, first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, i-it's kind of a legal thing, you know."

That was yet another lie. In fact, he was not even supposed to be recording those messages. Truth is, he had just managed to get his hands into the so-called introductory greeting, and was intending on reading it to the next guard, so they would know what would happen if they died, and why the police had never been notified of all the guards that died there. Someone had to know. But he had to play it out as if it wasn't that bad, just in case the management got their hands on those messages first.

In one final desperate attempt to try and get a sign from the robots that there was still something left from their personalities, he left a notebook on the other side of the door, along with a pen, on the third night of his last week. He hoped that if they could communicate, they would write something.

It proved to work, as he received a piece of paper, with a messy handwriting he recognized as belonging to Bonnie, saying "PLEASE GET OUT". He replied quickly, asking him why they were acting so oddly. The response came – "WE DON'T MEAN IT PLEASE GET OUT". They even begged him (in writing) to shut them down.

Only then did Phil realize that, maybe, it wasn't a case of mistaken identity. They were aware of what was going on, and tried to fight it. But something was making them attack the guards… What could it be?

But he was not going to figure it out. Because he never got to finish his last week.

* * *

 **[A/N - 8C]**


	7. Chapter 7 - The Final Message

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

 **4** **th** **November**

Phil looked nervously at the watch. 5h15. He was so close, and yet he was pretty sure that, this time, his luck had run out. After fifteen years of dodging the "Curse of Freddy Fazbear's" his time had finally come.

The animatronics were more persistent that ever on trying to get into his office, which, considering he was on his fourth month, was not surprising. He stayed too long on the job, he knew it. They already knew how he operated, and knew that if they wanted to get to him, they would have to work as a team. And that was exactly what they were doing.

Both Bonnie and Foxy were at his left door. Chica had just left, but he knew it was a matter of time until either she or Freddy showed up to pay him a visit. He was practically out of power.

A part of him regretted not quitting the job sooner. Maybe now he would be relaxing at home with his kids, helping Patricia chose a name for her baby, which they now knew was going to be a girl.

This was going to be his last struggle, that much was clear. The job was taking its toll anyway. He was having a breakdown, just like Jeremy – he was seeing things, hearing them even. Drawings on the walls that randomly changed, the sign in Pirate Cove saying "It's me", and there were even times when he thought he heard someone whispering to him.

If he was not going to make it past that night, than there was something he had to do. He gulped, and started recording his fourth – and last – message for the next night guard.

"Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day four… I knew you could do it… Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow…"

Foxy started knocking harshly on the door. Phil looked at the door quickly before continuing.

"It's-it's been a bad night here… for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you…" He paused to clear his throat. "… uh, when I did."

More knocking. Usually, Foxy didn't stay at the door that long, but it was obvious they were going all out that night. They were not going to let him escape. Feeling a sudden hint of despair, Phil decided to make a last request to the next guard. He thought it was probably unfair to ask the next night guard, someone he didn't even know, something like _that_ , but he wanted to ensure that his kids wouldn't just wonder what ever happened to their father, thinking he had gone missing, just like all the other guards.

"Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the backroom? I'm gonna try to hold out until someone… checks… Maybe it won't be so bad."

Heh, hope was sure a bother. He actually hoping that he would still be alive by the time that the next night guard listened to that message. Assuming that the guy himself would survive long enough to hear it, of course.

"Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there… You know…"

Oh wow, he was really losing it. Phil almost laughed at himself, rambling like that. What was he talking about? He was going to die, at the hands of the animatronics that had once called him "father". It would be totally fine if he freaked out. But he didn't. He was accepting it. It was about time that he paid for his mistakes.

The "Toreador March" started playing. Phil closed his eyes, still holding the mouthpiece of the phone. Freddy was there. He was probably right behind him, already in his office. It was too late.

He was about to end the message, not wanting the poor night guard to have to hear him being dragged out the office and killed, when he heard an inhuman moan. He had never heard that before. He felt a sudden shiver that made him twitch and look up from the phone.

There was something on the desk, staring at him.

A yellow animatronic bear, which he immediately recognized as being Golden Freddy. The bear had no eyes, but it lowered its head, as if to look at him. But he couldn't be there, he had been destroyed in 1987…

"… Oh no…" Phil muttered.

The bear opened its mouth, and a lout, horrible scream echoed in the office. Amongst the static that came from Golden Freddy's yell, Phil could make out what he was saying: **"RUN"**

Phil felt something push him. He fell off the chair, just in time to avoid Freddy, who was apparently about to capture him. Freddy stumbled as he missed his target, and looked at the night guard with a distraught expression.

"Fa… ther…" he groaned, the voice trembling just from the effort to speak.

Phil took the chance. Something had pushed him out of Freddy's way, saving him. Could it have been Golden Freddy? How could he even be here in the first place?

The night guard dashed down the east hall, though he knew that Chica would be around there somewhere, and there was very little chance of him managing to avoid the animatronics until 6 AM rolled by and their programming forced them to go back on stage. But hope was a bother, and it was telling him to take the chance he had just received.

As he expected, once he reached the bathrooms, he found the tall yellow chicken there, glaring at the camera. Once she noticed Phil's presence, her glare turned into a look of horror.

"D… dad…"

If he wasn't so close to her, he wouldn't have been able to tell what she was saying. It would have just sounded like a moan. They wanted to fight whatever was controlling them, but couldn't.

"Chica, p-please, let me pass," he begged, hoping that she would find the strength to fight.

The robot twitched horribly, before raising her hands in an obvious attempt to grab him. Before she could, however, she was pushed back harshly, making her collapse on the floor. Phil didn't see anything push her, but he a suspicion that it had been the same force that had pushed him away from Freddy.

"Thank you!" he said to the invisible force, and made his way towards the kitchen.

He closed the door, and blocked the way with the table. With any luck, it would be enough to hold them back for a while. He checked his watch. 5h32.

"Damn, it's too long…" he hissed under his breath.

" **Hello, Phil~"**

Phil's eyes widened slightly. The robotic voice he heard made him shiver again, and, as he turned around, he dreaded what he would find. There was a tall figure looming above him, of a purple color. It was shaped like Bonnie, with white pupils and teeth that formed a wicked grin.

The guard gripped the edge of the table, staring at the unknown ghostly form that eyed him with an uncomfortable and uncanny stare. "Wh… what the hell are you?"

" **Oh you don't remember me, Phil? I'm hurt,"** the purple figure sneered. **"I'll give you something to remember then"**

Before Phil could do anything – though he was not entirely sure what he _could_ do against that thing –, the figure lounged at him while laughing maniacally. It went through him, and an immediate urge to puke took over. The guard bent over and coughed, blood spilling out of his mouth like a waterfall. His insides twisted and turned, as if there was something in there biting and slashing madly. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

"Ugh… W-what… did you… cough…" Phil stopped talking, knowing that it would only make his injuries worse if he did. He tried standing up, but his knees failed him.

The shadowy figure laughed. **"You don't look so good there,"** it observed, with a fake worried tone.

Phil stared at him angrily, before grabbing the table he had used to block the door and shoving it out of the way harshly. The table tumbled with a loud thud, and the purple figure looked at it with interest.

" **Oh you sure know how to impress,"** it complimented. **"So strong ~ But I can't let you go, you know that, right?"**

The shadow moved its hands in a scratch-like gesture, and sure enough, deep cuts immediately appeared in Phil's legs, some so deep he could almost see the bone.

The guard didn't give the unknown figure the pleasure of hearing him in pain. He held his legs to stop the bleeding, groaning, know feeling like he was minutes away from passing out. Whatever that thing had done to him, he was pretty sure he was having serious internal hemorrhages, and if things kept getting worse, he could very well die. He had somehow managed to avoid death at the hands of the robots, and now he was about to get killed by some… shadow thing?

The door suddenly swung open, not being blocked by the table anymore, and Chica stood at the entrance, scanning the area eerily. The purple shadow spotted the robotic chicken, and for a second it seemed disappointed. It looked at Phil and smirked.

" **We'll see each other soon, Phil ~"**

It vanished. For a second, Phil felt relieved it was gone, but then there was the new threat that had just appeared – Chica. The chicken looked at him. Now he was in no condition to go anywhere. He tried dragging himself away from her, but the slightest movement brought him an amount of pain he never thought he would feel.

Chica grabbed him easily and started dragging him across the floor. He didn't fight back. Whatever luck he still had left that helped him survive the first attack in his office was gone. He _was_ going to get stuffed into a suit, never to find out what exactly was controlling his beloved animatronics and turning them into mindless murderers. He was never going to find out what was that purple figure or how Golden Freddy could still be around. He was never going to see his family again…

The robot finally got near the backroom. He knew what would follow. Chica was joined by Freddy, who had apparently followed the blood trail Phil had left behind. Foxy and Bonnie were already at the door. Fitting. They were all going to witness and partake in the death of their father.

Phil looked up at his "children", and smiled weakly. They had to know, that regardless of whatever they were about to do to him, they would always be his kids. He would always love them. He didn't hate them.

Bonnie was the first to understand the meaning behind Phil's expression. His body twitched and he almost heard him sob.

"D-da… daddy…"

Freddy took one step towards a vacant suit, but he didn't get to grab it.

Phil heard the sound of something large and metallic hit the floor.

He glanced at his left, to see something large and brown fallen on the floor. What could that be…? Well, it didn't matter. His eyes were almost closed, so tired he was from the effort to stay conscious. The more blood he lost, the less pain he felt. It was kind of comforting. The pain was almost gone.

Something else fell. This time, yellow. Phil frowned. What was going on?

He made a huge effort to open his eyes, and saw both Freddy and Chica collapsed on the floor in front of him. Something knocked them over. He looked up at Bonnie and Foxy, who bent over to grab him. But something grabbed his arms and pulled him inside the backroom, and immediately after the door closed on both the fox's and the bunny's face.

"Ugh…" Phil groaned, feeling pain now spread in his arms. He didn't bother to try and move. He simply looked around, to try and see who had been the one to drag him in there.

Golden Freddy suddenly appeared in front of him, as if it had been there all along, cloaked in invisibility.

" **Mr. Grayson?"**

Phil coughed, getting even more blood on his chin and the floor. That voice sounded robotic, like that of the purple shadow that attacked him. But it sounded like a little girl… a kind and genuinely worried voice. He recognized it from somewhere…

The bear's empty eye sockets showed signs of worry.

"W-what… are you… d-doing here?" Phil coughed, his vision getting blurry. He didn't have a lot of time before his mind went blank. " _H-how_ …?"

The bear moved closer to him. **"Please don't die,"** it begged. **"Don't you remember me?"**

Phil couldn't say anything else. He felt his eyes roll into darkness, everything went black and the pain disappeared. The last thing he heard, was his watch's alarm announcing the end of his shift, and that little girl's voice that came from the ghostly Golden Freddy.

" **Please… It's me…"**

* * *

 **[A/N - And thus the story of Phone Guy ends...**

 **Or not! If you liked this story, maybe you should check out my other fanfictions of "A Golden Opportunity" series, they are all related and they all tell the story of my AU of FNAF. You might find something interesting regarding the fate of Phil there...**

 **Thank you for all the faves, follows and reviews! You are all awesome - yes, even you who didn't bother to read this note!** **]**


End file.
